


Rough Starts and Stolen Hearts

by Thirivm



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, also some chapters will have a gender-neutral reader, any necessary content or spoiler warnings will be tagged individually, but I'll try to keep this as spoiler-free as I can, but if anyone wants it I can try male-reader specific chapters as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-09-12 06:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirivm/pseuds/Thirivm
Summary: When you left your childhood home to make a name for yourself in this wild world, you never expected the series of events that eventually led you to finding a place amongst the infamous Van der Linde gang. But in the time it takes for that motley crew of outlaws and misfits to feel more like family than the one you'd left behind, you'd already found another reason to stay.Or rather, you've found a certain someone amongst them who was definitely worth sticking around for.[ AKA a random assortment of Arthur Morgan/Reader drabbles based on single word prompts. ]





	1. Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started writing most of these like a week ago but wanted to wait until I finished a few of them before I started posting. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

Arthur doesn’t expect to wake up to the smell of bacon.

It’s a welcome aroma to be sure, and at first he thinks he’s dreaming it up somehow. But then he sits up and the scent is still there, wafting through the air, and as he shrugs off the lingering effects of his sleep Arthur listens to the soft clanking of silverware and the quiet but typical morning chatter of the camp.

He stands up with a yawn, taking a moment to stretch out and get himself dressed. It's a pretty warm morning so he leaves his coat behind in favor of just his usual shirt, though he does grab his hat, and he has to blink hard as he steps out of his tent to give his eyes a second to adjust to the sunlight.

You’re the first person he sees, sitting beside the fire reserved for cooking, but rather than the usual pot for the stew he sees that you’ve got a few pans set up. One of them is full of bacon, already cooked and likely cooling right now and with the other one you’re in the middle of scrambling a few eggs. As if the aroma wasn’t already good enough, the sight of the food certainly makes his mouth water.

Arthur glances around the rest of the camp as he approaches you, and he spots everyone else seated at the tables or around the main campfire, happily tucking into heaping plates of bacon and eggs between their various conversations. Even Micah seems to be in a decent mood as he chats with Bill and Uncle, and Arthur smiles a little when he notices Abigail in the middle of scolding both John and Jack for ignoring their silverware in favor of eating their eggs with their fingers.

“So what’s all this then?” Arthur asks once he's joined you at the fire. You glance up from your cooking, greeting him with a warm smile before looking back to sprinkle a few pinches of salt and pepper into the half-cooked eggs. “We stealin’ breakfast food now? No offense, but that’s a far cry from the scores we used to go after.”

“Got it from a ranch a little ways past Valentine,” you reply, stirring the eggs on the pan around a little more before you look up at Arthur again, smiling at his teasing words. “And no, Mr. Morgan, I didn’t steal any of it. Made a deal with the farmer for all this in exchange for a few pounds of fish and some new pelts he can sell in town.”

“That gonna be a permanent arrangement then?” Arthur asks, his tone seeming a little wary now but it’s not quite disapproving. You shrug back at him, scraping the finished eggs onto one of the empty plates before dropping a few pieces of bacon down on top of them.

“Asked the man that already myself. He says so long as we bring no trouble to his farm, he’s open to keepin’ this exchange goin’. Says his wife will even throw a few loaves of bread in next time if I can get him a decent-sized bear pelt.” You look up at Arthur, offering him the freshly prepared plate of food. “You had any breakfast yet?”

“We got nothin’ else that’ll compared to this, I’m sure.” He accepts the plate with a thankful nod and settles himself down onto the nearby log as you crack a couple more eggs into the pan. Arthur watches you for a moment before he takes a bite of his food, unable to keep himself from letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. The eggs are fluffy and well-seasoned, and the bacon is crisp but meaty. It’s definitely far better than the diet of canned fruit and biscuits that he’s been on lately, and he doesn’t miss the smile on your face when you notice his approval. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Not a problem, Arthur. I’m just hopin’ that I can keep this deal up.. It’ll feel good to have one thing goin' right for us.” You try to keep your tone light but Arthur pauses in his eating to look at you, and you sigh softly after enduring a few moments of silence. “What’s wrong? Does this worry you or somethin’?”

“Nah, doesn’t worry me none but I feel like I gotta ask.. What brought all this on?” Arthur asks you, his brow furrowing a little when you pause in your cooking. “I don’t mean nothin’ by it, but you haven’t gone out strikin’ deals on the gang’s behalf in a while. Not since..”

He trails off but you still know what he was going to say. Not since Blackwater.

For a few moments you don’t answer, focusing instead on getting yourself a helping of breakfast now that everyone else has been fed. Arthur doesn’t repeat his question but you can feel his eyes still on you as you work, and eventually you look up to give him another smile, though it’s strained compared to your earlier ones.

“I like to think that we’re findin' our feet again, but there’s no pretending that it wasn’t a hard road to get here.” You say, your gaze on your cooking once more. You can still feel Arthur watching you, but at least he’s started eating again. “We’ve all suffered and lost so much these past couple months.. I just figured that gettin’ to enjoy a decent meal every now and then is the least everyone deserves.”

“Well, you ain’t wrong there..” Arthur agrees with a nod, but he seems to pick up on the fact that you don’t want to dwell on what you all left behind. To your relief he drops the subject, and instead moves the conversation on to your respective plans for the day as you bring your plate over and sit yourself down beside him.

The two of you chat for a while as you eat, only being interrupted by Jack coming over to see if there was any extra bacon left. You frown, about to tell the boy that there wasn't but you pause when Arthur hands him one of the pieces that he hadn’t eaten yet. You say nothing, but the soft way that he smiles as Jack happily runs off with the food does make you giggle.

“What's so funny?” Arthur says, glancing at you and trying to sound gruff about it but he’s not fooling anyone, especially since you can see the way that his ears have turned a little pink.

You just shake your head with another smile and Arthur huffs at that, leaning over to nudge his shoulder lightly into yours before he picks up the conversation where he’d left off. That just makes you smile again and the two of you finish your breakfast together, enjoying the good food and the warm sense of camaraderie that’s fallen over the camp.

* * *

 


	2. Rope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Attempted hanging/execution of Reader.

* * *

  
You’ve never known rope to be heavy or hot to the touch, but the one currently wrapped around your neck feels like it’s made of iron that burns against your skin, and the faint tremble in your body that leaves you feeling weak probably isn’t helping.

The town deputy in front of you paces back and forth across the wooden platform of the gallows, reading through the list of known crimes that were damning you to this noose. He speaks casually, like he was simply reading a story from the morning paper, and you wonder if he’s just used to this or if he’s taking some sort of satisfaction in finally catching one of the known members of the Van der Linde gang. You’re willing to put money on the latter.

You try to maintain a neutral expression, but it’s an ever-growing struggle to keep calm as more and more of the townspeople gathered around to witness your incoming demise. You want to at least pretend that you’re meeting your end with dignity but inside you’re scared. You’re so scared, and though you always suspected that the life you lived would probably end like this you just.. You never imagined it happening so soon.

This was your own damn fault too, which just makes this shit situation even worse.

Dutch had ordered you to fall back with the rest of the men and you didn’t listen. You were so far ahead of them, and you only needed to close the distance between you and that carriage a little more before you could leap over and take control. But you’d been too focused on the potential score. You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, didn’t realize how close to the outskirts of the town you were until you suddenly found yourself surrounded by lawmen, including the deputy that was currently pacing in front of you.

They had been quick to recognize you from the wanted posters and the next thing you knew you were knocked off of your horse and shoved face down in the mud, arms being tied up behind your back as your spooked horse bolted, and when they hauled you to your feet your eyes had scanned the nearby hills, desperately looking for signs of Dutch or John or anyone else riding in to help you out.

Your heart had sank when you saw that the hills you’d just come from were empty.

But even in spite of the pain that their disappearance had caused you found yourself hoping that everyone else had gotten back to camp in one piece. It wasn’t any of their faults that you’d gotten yourself into this situation, after all. Even so, you felt bad in advance for whichever poor son-of-a-bitch was left to tell Arthur that you’d been stupid enough to get yourself caught and strung up like a chicken-thieving fox.

On second thought maybe it was better this way, because if you went back to camp right now Arthur would probably shoot you for this.

You try to push your thoughts of Arthur from your mind because then the tears will come and you don't want to cry in front of these people. They could gather around to watch the other sobbing victims of the gallows to their heart's content but you won't give them that satisfaction. But the tears still try to gather and you take a moment to blink them back before you glance at the deputy again, a little surprised to see that he’s still talking. Wow, he must’ve been going over charges that you yourself had forgotten about..

“-wanted for multiple instances of horse theft-“

Not your fault. Half of their riders were killed in a shoot-out, one that you did not start, thank you very much. What were you supposed to do, leave the poor animals tethered to the hitching posts so they could be left behind and starve to death?

“-various eyewitness accounts of armed robbery-“

Again, not entirely accurate because you weren’t robbing those people, per say. You’d been sent out to collect some debts for the camp and yeah, maybe you’d waved your guns in a few faces to let them know you weren’t leaving empty-handed. You didn’t do it to the more amicable folk, at least, just the ones who tried to draw weapons on you first.

You make a mental note to find Strauss again in the next life and tell that shady bastard where he can shove those collection requests from now on.

“-suspected involvement in the recent murders of our good lawmen-"

You clench your jaw at that one. Those men were shot dead by the goddamn O’Driscolls you’d been after. But then you’d gone and shot all of them in return and left yourself with no proof but your word, which clearly meant nothing to these people. In retrospect, you probably should have kept at least one of those O’Driscoll boys alive. Those lawmen had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“-for these crimes and more, you are hereby sentenced to hang from the neck until dead.”

The words seem to rush past you in a distant echo. The crowd before you is a chorus of noise, some cheering for the well-deserved death of another outlaw and some just yelling out random curses and insults. You think you could live with that, metaphorically speaking, if you didn’t actually recognize a few of the faces.

There were various people in that mob that you and the gang had helped out in some way or another, people who were staying silent now instead of speaking up for the selfless and decent actions you'd been involved in. That might not save you, but at least it might get some of the people hollering for your death to shut up. A few of them you actually stare at, taking mild satisfaction in the way that they can't even seem to look at you. Good. You hope the guilt rots their brains..

An odd shuffle of movement in the center of the crowd suddenly catches your eye and you look down to see a man making his way forward. He's walking quickly, and keeping his head too low for anyone to see his face but then you feel your chest flutter with hope because you’d recognize Sean’s dirty old hat anywhere.

There’s more movement, in the left side of the crowd this time, and you glance towards it as subtly as you can. There's another man shouldering his way towards the gallows in the same way that Sean is, and you don’t recognize the hat but you do see flashes of Dutch’s familiar black suit hidden beneath a filthy duster coat.

A preacher steps forward to stand beside the deputy, a bible in hand and he’s probably there to read you your last rites or ask God to forgive your sins or something like that but you pay them no mind, and instead start looking over the crowd and the town with more scrutiny now.

It only takes a moment for you to notice that there’s a few horses standing near the saloon now, horses that definitely hadn’t been there when all this started, but you recognize those animals easily even with the distance between you and them. Your beloved mustang stands out in particular and now you have to fight back a shaky smile.

Huh.. It looks like the gang hadn’t abandoned you after all.

You can’t see your companions in the crowd anymore but you can tell that they’re still there, probably all waiting for the right moment to strike and you hope it’s going to come real damn soon because now the deputy is walking towards the lever, his eyes on you and a hint of a smirk on his face. You hold his gaze, and when you narrow your eyes that little smirk of his falters, but you have no time to enjoy that last triumph before he pulls the lever back.

The crowd cheers as the floor suddenly falls away beneath you and it feels like you drop down in slow motion, feeling the rope starting to tighten around your neck as you do and then there’s an intense pressure for only an instant before you suddenly hear the loud crack of a gunshot ring out. Just like that the rope goes limp and you keep falling, hitting the ground hard and gasping for the breath that had just been knocked out of you.

You lie there for a moment, dazed and winded, and you don’t understand what had just happened until you see the severed rope still swinging above you. Only a few members of the gang could have made such a clean shot like that and you’re pretty sure you know which one it was. You'd even reward him with a kiss for that if it didn't risk Molly's wrath.

The screaming had started before you even hit the ground.

You hear the thunderous beat of people running off in every direction, and roll over onto your side as the deputy and a few other lawmen rush off of the platform, trying in vain to restore order as the sound of more gunshots and yelling rip through the air. It seems that, for the moment at least, no one is looking for you and that thought brings you some comfort as you manage to push yourself up onto your knees, still breathing hard.

“Sure, run like hell now!” You yell out towards the fleeing crowds, coughing hard as you try to tug your hands loose again. Nobody seems to hear you but that doesn’t stop the surge of anger rising in your chest. “Y’all didn’t seem so scared when it was me ‘bout to die!”

“Don’t draw attention!” a rough voice beside you suddenly snaps but you have no time to turn around before you’re being hauled to your feet and led out from beneath the gallows. For a moment you think it’s one of the lawmen but then you realize that you’re being rushed towards the gang’s horses, not the Sheriff’s office, and you finally turn your head to meet the familiar eyes of John Marston.

The rest of his face is hidden by his mask and you don’t recognize the clothes he’s wearing, but you’re not about to stop and ask questions. You and John only stop running long enough for him to undo the ropes binding your wrists, cursing when he fumbles with them for a moment, but then finally your hands are free and you climb up onto your horse even faster than John does.

You’re not sure where Lenny came from but suddenly he’s there too, jumping onto the back of the third horse and you see the look of relief shining in his eyes when he sees that you’re more or less unharmed, though his eyes drop down to your neck briefly and you know that there must be some kind of mark. You don't mind, considering that it could've been so much worse.

“Let’s go!” John shouts, and there’s sure as hell no need to tell you twice.

You take off after the two men as fast as you can get your horses to go, and you can still hear gunfire and shouts echoing throughout the town behind you. It makes you want to double back and help Dutch and the others, or ask if Arthur's back there fighting too, but right now you know that the priority is getting you as far away from the town as you can.

John ends up leading you all off of the main roads to take the long way home, probably to avoid the risk of anyone tracking your horse prints back towards Clemens Point, and when the lakeside camp finally comes into view you’ve never been so happy to see the ragtag group that’s waiting there for your return.

Tilly and Mary-Beth both exclaim happily as soon as they spot you, rushing over to help you down while Charles and Javier come forward to tend to the trio of exhausted horses. You have to grip Tilly’s arm a little as they usher you further into the camp, your nerves still shot and legs shaking from the hard ride back but you meet all the smiling faces around you with a grin, happily accepting the hugs and pats that the gang comes forward to give you.

You do tear up again when Jack rushes forward to wrap his arms around your legs in the tightest hug he’s ever given you, and even Micah remarks that you were ‘probably better off alive than dead anyway’ before he shuffles off. It’s almost sentimental, considering who it’s coming from.

Soon Miss Grimshaw is shooing everyone away so that you can get some air. You give her a grateful nod before dropping down onto the nearest seat, and hadn’t realized until then that your hands were shaking. You let out a heavy sigh, intending to put on a brave face for everyone, but there was no doubt in your mind that this would come back to haunt you in the form of a few nightmares before you started to recover. You'd been caught by the Law and sentences to die before but today was the furthest it had ever gotten..

“Where is she?!”

You don’t know how you missed the sound of more horses entering the camp but when you look back you see Dutch, Bill, Sean, and Arthur coming into view. It only takes Arthur a second to locate you before he’s rushing over and you leap to your feet to meet him halfway, letting out a shaky but happy gasp as he lifts you up into his arm in a tight embrace.

He spins you around once, his relief to be holding you so clear in his eyes and in his laughter as he sets you down, but then just as quickly his expression starts to sober up. He lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping some but his gaze doesn’t leave yours, and you frown when you see nothing but sorrow on his face now. He looks sheepish and ashamed, but you have no time to speak again before he pulls you forward into another tight hug, and you all but melt into his arms.

“I thought you..” Arthur starts to say before he trails off and pulls back to look down at you with a shake of his head. “When I got back and they told me you’d been caught, I was.. I was so damn afraid that we weren’t gonna make it there in time, that we’d be too late or..”

“Hey, it’s okay, Arthur,” you quickly assure him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands and Arthur leans heavily into your touch, closing his eyes with a deep sigh as he sets his hands on top of yours. You know inwardly that he probably feels even guiltier now because you're the one trying to comfort him instead of it being the other way around, but honestly, you need this too. You need to feel the warmth of him under your touch because it's a reminder that you're still alive. “I’m okay now..”

“I’m so sorry, darlin'.. I shoulda been here.” Arthur sighs, opening his eyes to look at you again but then his gaze drops down to the faint mark still visible on your neck, and the way that seeing it makes him wince sends a pang through your chest. “If I was here maybe this wouldn’t have happened.. Ya wouldn’t have been caught and-”  
  
“Arthur.” You interrupt him, your voice a little shaky but still stern enough to make him stop talking. He frowns but doesn’t say anything else, and some of the lingering guilt in his eyes seems to fade a little as you smile at him. “It’s over now.. You and the others saved me and we all got away together, okay? I’m still here..”

Arthur just nods back at you, still not saying anything as he pulls you into another hug and you press yourself in as close to him as you can, able to feel the faint trembling in his hands as he holds you tightly to his chest. You close your eyes as you breathe in his scent, taking comfort in the familiar sensation as he rubs a warm hand along your back as if to chase away your own lingering shivers.

“I’m here,” you say again, hearing the soft hitch in his breath and this time you can’t stop your eyes from filling with tears because you’re home and safe and back in Arthur’s arms now, three things that had almost been lost to you forever. “I’m right here, Arthur..”

“So am I, sweetheart,” Arthur replies quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he presses a kiss to the top of your head and you feel a few warm tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. “This ain’t never gonna happen to you again, you hear me? Ain’t nobody takin’ you away from me, not while I’m still here..”

You’re not sure that’s a promise he can truly keep but you accept it anyway because you know it's one that he'll fight like Hell to keep.

You try to smile but then Arthur reaches a hand up to brush one of the tears from your face. It's such a small, everyday gesture but maybe that's why everything suddenly hits you so hard. You grasp his shirt as you collapse against him, trembling and whimpering as you try to muffle the sounds of your cries against his chest. Arthur lets out a deep, shuddery breath of his own but just keeps holding you as you let it all out, whispering soft words of comfort into your ear and gently easing you through the sobs.

The time seems to drag by so slowly but eventually the tears finally stop, and Arthur gently cleans your face with one of his bandannas before he leads you back towards his tent. You lay down on the cot first and Arthur settles in beside you, curling his larger body around yours as if trying to shield you from the world. There are a few more scattered tears but Arthur just gently wipes them away between soft kisses, and soon you feel exhaustion starting to take hold.

He holds you close, promising to keep you safe while you sleep, and you know they’ll come sooner or later but you hope that there are no nightmares to plague you that night, just the warmth of the man beside you and the promise of a tomorrow that you can’t wait to see.

* * *

 


	3. Storm.

* * *

You had really come to regret the fact that you hadn’t heeded Charles and Hosea’s suggestions to stay in the camp until this thunderstorm passed over.

It was just going to be a quick outing, you’d told them. Pearson’s stock of meats was getting low and no one knew how long that storm would stick around so better for you to go out and get some deer while you still could.

You'd intended to be gone a few hours at most. That had been almost a day ago.

The swirling clouds above you are dark, still so heavy with rain that they were damn near black. The strong winds have made it even harder to see through the relentless downpour, and the thick fog that had rolled in with it wasn’t helping matters either. Within minutes of the rain starting to fall you could barely see more than a few feet ahead of you, and until this lightened up some you know there’s no way you’ll be able to make it back to the camp.

You’re not even sure where you are right now.. The only thing you’re sure of is that you haven’t left the Heartlands. But you don’t recognize what little you can see around you and right now you’re just desperate for some shelter; if you and your horse stayed out in this much longer you were both likely to catch your deaths.

“C’mon boy, just a little further,” you urge as you lead the mustang forward and Buckshot snorts but follows after you. You’d decided not to ride him for a bit, considering how heavy your soaked saddle and supply bags probably were, and you’ve already forced yourself to dump the only deer that you’d managed to catch before this all started. It hadn’t been a big deer but it still would’ve made for a hearty stew or two, and not listening to anyone's advice would be made even worse now by the fact that you’d come crawling back empty-handed.

Of course, that's also assuming that you _would_ manage to crawl back.

This storm doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon and you hope you’re getting close to a homestead willing to give you shelter. Hell, you’d even happily take sleeping in a barn loft if it meant getting out of this rain. The air has steadily been getting colder, which meant that the sun was probably going down even if you couldn’t see it, and you can barely keep yourself from shivering for more than a few seconds at a time. What you wouldn’t do for a blanket right now-

Suddenly you hear something, distant and barely audible over the sound of the beating rain but it still makes you pause. It had sounded like.. someone saying your name?

You look around but can’t see anything other than Buckshot and a few shrubs close to your feet, and just before you keep going you hear it again. It’s not much louder but you’re almost positive now that it's your name being called, and the voice is definitely familiar..

“Sorry boy,” you say quickly to your horse before raising two fingers to your mouth and releasing the longest, loudest whistle that you can. Buckshot just flicks an ear at the volume and you wait for a beat, two beats, and then hear a whistle cutting through the air back to you. You’ve definitely heard that whistle before.

It’s close, much more audible than the shouting had been, and you take a few steps forward before you whistle again. The replying whistle comes faster this time, and soon enough you can hear the sound of another horse heading in your direction. You step back towards Buckshot, grabbing his reigns to keep him close, and you feel a surge of relief when you recognize the shadowy shape of the man riding towards you.

“Arthur..” You let out a deep breath as soon as you have a clear view of him and then think that you've never been so damn happy to see that man, which was really saying something.

“There you are!” Arthur’s quick to hop down off of his mare, grasping one of your arms lightly and looking you over for any sign of injury. “You lost your mind, woman, stayin’ out here in this? Half the damn camp’s worryin’ themselves sick over you!”

“I didn’t mean to! Lost my bearings when the rain started comin’ down.” you reply, giving Arthur an apologetic and also sheepish look when he just frowns back at you, and his eyes are stern but they’re also full of worry. “Don’t know how you found me either, but I’m so damn glad to see you..”

His expression softens at that. He nods, and you feel him give your arm another firm squeeze before he steps away and starts to walk back to his horse, gesturing for you to do the same as he hauls himself up onto his saddle. “Found an old cabin a short ways back, abandoned by the looks of it. Ain’t no luxury hotel but we need to get ya out of this rain. Try to stay close, now..”

The pace that you and Arthur move at is much slower than either of you probably would have liked but you can’t run the horses too fast, not with it steadily getting darker by the minute. Soon enough though the little cabin comes into view, and it’s really not much to look at but it seems like the walls and roof are all still intact. Besides, you hadn’t been joking earlier about being willing to sleep in a barn.

“Get yourself inside, see if you can find stuff for a fire.” Arthur says as he hops down from his horse again, walking them over to the remains of what was probably a stable once. Again, it’s not much to look at but there’s plenty of grass nearby and at least it gets your animals out of the storm. “Gonna get the horses settled in and make sure no one’s comin’ our way.”

You nod back at him before you head inside, shaking as much rain off of yourself as you can, and then try to ignore the uncomfortable squelching of your soaked clothes as you walk around to look for supplies.

The air inside is stale. It’s definitely been abandoned for some time, judging by the scattered mess and the thin layer of dust on everything, but it's thankfully dry and there are a few rickety chairs that you can break down into firewood.

You’re sitting down beside the old fireplace and breaking apart the last of the second chair when Arthur comes back in, shuddering off some of the rain just like you had before he takes his hat off and hangs it on the closest nail that he can see. “Find anythin' useful?”

“Just wood so far, ain’t had time to look around for much else.” You reply, and Arthur walks over to kneel down beside you, gently but firmly nudging you out of the way so that he can finish getting the small fire going. He doesn’t miss the brief roll of your eyes, however, and he frowns over at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Arthur says, tucking his small matchbook back into his shirt pocket now that the flames were flickering to life. “Ya need to be gettin’ those wet clothes off, not foolin’ around with this.”

“Mr Morgan! Askin’ a lady to strip in front of you?” You let out a gasp of mock-offense, and grin again when he's the one to roll his eyes this time. “And here I thought you were a gentleman! You at least bring along any wine, you callous brute?”

“Hush up, woman..” Arthur mumbles, and you feel a rush of triumph at the sight of his ears turning red. How you loved to fluster this man when you could.. But also he’s not wrong; you needed to get these wet clothes off before you ran the risk of getting sick even higher.

Arthur turns away as you strip, instead starting to rummage through one of the satchels he’d brought inside with him, and the temptation to tease him again is strong but ultimately you refrain from reminding him that he’s seen you in various states of undress before. He still seems to be adjusting to his level of intimacy with you, you haven't been together for very long after all, but you have to admit that seeing that side of him is unexpectedly cute.

The fire starts to warm the room up some but you’re still trying not to shiver as you peel off the various layers of wet clothing. You do jump a little when Arthur's hand suddenly claps down on your shoulder, however, and you look over to see him holding an old shirt of his out towards you. It’s worn and one of the sleeves is a little damp, but it should still be long enough on your body to make yourself fairly decent.

“Wish I had more to offer, but it’s probably better than nothin’.” Arthur says, rubbing at the back of his neck when you take the shirt from him. “Didn’t even think to try and grab ya a change of clothes when I left the camp..”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you assure him with a grateful smile and he nods back at you with one of his own before he reaches over to gather up the wet clothes you'd taken off. You watch him carry them over and lay them out in front of the fireplace to dry before you tug his shirt on. It's a little shorter than you thought it'd be but it was better than waiting for you clothes while nearly naked.

You walk over to stand beside Arthur, sighing softly as you sit down and hold your hands up towards the warmth of the flames. The sound of rustling fabric then reaches your ears, and you glance back in time to see Arthur start stripping off some of his clothes as well. He takes off less than you do, however, and he’s still wearing his pants and a thin undershirt as he carries everything else over and spreads it all out beside yours.

“Gotta keep somethin’ on in case trouble comes knockin’.” Arthur mutters as if in explanation as he settles down beside you, raising his hands towards the fire as well. You breathe out a quiet sigh through your nose, listening to the soft crackle of the flames and the steady beat of the rain against the roof as the fire slowly chases away the chill that had been clinging so tightly to you. Arthur stays quiet for a while, though eventually you see him look over at you from the corner of your eye. “You gettin’ warm enough over there?”

“I could probably be warmer,” You shrug, giving Arthur a coy smile, and he chuckles softly before holding an arm up in invitation. You quickly scoot over towards him, tucking yourself in as close to his side as you can get before resting your head against his chest. He wraps his arm around you, gently rubbing your shoulder to get some more heat back into your body, and you raise your head up to give him a warm smile when he presses a soft kiss to your temple. “By the way, Arthur.. Thanks for comin’ out to find me.”

“Think nothin’ of it, sweetheart,” Arthur replies, waiting for you to settle back down before he rests his head comfortably on top of your cheek, and you hear him let out a soft sigh of his own as his grip on you tightens just a little. “I’m just glad you’re okay..”

“Me too, cowboy,” You close your eyes as the exhaustion from the long day starts to catch up, and eventually fall asleep to the muffled sounds of the storm and the comfort of Arthur Morgan’s warm body curled up against yours.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far! 
> 
> Also, I would love it if anyone has some more one-word prompts or ideas they'd like to see done!


	4. Candy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This one's set shortly after the start of Chapter 3 but there's no spoilers beyond location names.

* * *

“Jesus, woman! Bought out the whole store then, did’ja?” Sean asks when he spots the very-full wagon that you and Arthur had just returned to the Clemens Point camp with. He then helpfully stands off to the side with his hands on his hips instead of coming forward to start unloading said wagon like everyone else was doing, even Uncle.

Okay, maybe the only thing that Uncle had grabbed was the crate of whiskey but it was something. For him, at least.

“Quit gapin’ and make yourself useful, Sean!” You reply, tossing him a hefty sack of potatoes and then laughing after he nearly drops them. “And those potatoes are for the stews, so don’t even think about goin’ all Irishman on ‘em.”

“That’s a hurtful stereotype, I’ll have ya know!” Sean huffs but he grins back at you, shifting the potato bag to one hand to catch a second, smaller bag of apples that you throw his way. “S’like me tellin’ all of yous Englishmen that ya can’t be trusted near the tea!”

“Sean, have you _ever_ actually seen a single one of those men drinking tea?” Mary-Beth asks, jabbing a thumb towards Swanson and Pearson, and then she pointedly ignores the half-insulted looks that both men give her. “The day they drink nothin’ but tea is the day Uncle gets back on the wagon!”

“Hey now! I was never on the wagon to start with!” Uncle yells back, prompting a chorus of laughter from everyone present as they keep working to unload all the supplies. You happily laugh along with them, so glad to see the gang in such a jovial mood after the tension of the past few weeks.

You’d had your fair share of doubts about the latest heist that Dutch had wanted to pull off, but against the odds the lot of you had succeeded, and the gang made off with quite a hefty sum despite a couple of hiccups during the plan (and if John didn’t improve his swimming soon then there was no way you’d ever take him on another riverside job again).

Most of the score went into the camp savings of course but between the leftovers and the extra money from pawning a box of jewelry that you’d snagged, there was more than enough to head into town and replenish the camp’s supplies for a couple of months at least, and even some left over to get everyone a treat or two from the general store.

You, specifically, were really looking forward to the pair of chocolate bars tucked safely away in your satchel.

The success of the job had certainly put a smile back on Dutch’s face and his good mood had quickly spread to the rest of the camp even before you and Arthur’s triumphant return from the shopping trip. You were more than a bit tired but the trip had been worth it, especially to see how relieved Hosea and Susan looked now. You knew how worried they’d both been about the diminishing supplies before the heist.

Jack sits off to the side with Cain beside him, the both of them watching you and the others unloading the last of cart, and eventually you notice that the usual look of curiosity in Jack’s eyes is now replaced with something else. It’s something close to expectant, and you try not to smile when Jack meets your gaze, least you spoil his surprise.

“All right, that’s the lot of it!” Hosea finally announces after Lenny and Bill take the last of the crates, and he wipes a few beads of sweat from his brow before patting the side of the cart to let Arthur know that he could move it back to the outskirts of camp now.

Arthur is quick to do so, and personally you’re glad to be done with all that loading and unloading for the rest of the day. If anyone else had shopping errands, they were going to have to pester Charles or Javier for help instead of you.

The crowd disperses and you start to walk off yourself before hearing a soft voice saying your name, and look back to see Jack standing there, staring up at you and wringing his hands almost shyly.

You smile at him. It’s still a little odd to be having a kid suddenly calling you one of his ‘aunts’ but there’s no denying that it brings a pleasant warmth to your chest every time he says it. It just makes him and his parents feel a little more like family, after all.

Jack says nothing else after getting your attention but he does watch you with wide, hopeful eyes. You just raise an eyebrow at the young boy before you finally reach into your satchel, smiling, and you can’t help but laugh at the way Jack’s whole demeanor lights up when he sees the large bag of assorted candies that you pull out.

“This is for you, Jack, but you take them straight to your momma to give you, ya hear?” You say as you hold the bag out towards him. “I’d rather not be on the receivin’ end of her wrath ‘cause you decided to spoil a week’s worth of your dinner in one afternoon.”

Jack nods up at you, clearly trying not to seem too eager but he all snatches the bag from your hand, yelling out his thanks over his shoulder as he races back towards the tent he shared with his mother.

You laugh again as you watch his retreat, faintly remembering a time when something so simple could make your entire week like that, and you’re still smiling when you then hear a soft whimper. Glancing down, you see Cain still sitting at your feet, his tail wagging and his pleading gaze fixed on you, and you stare at the dog before reaching into your bag with another sigh.

“Don’t say I never gave you nothin’..” You tell Cain before tossing a thick strip of deer jerky towards him. Cain rears up to snatch it eagerly, his tail wagging even more furiously than before as he lies down and tears into the dried meat.

“Quit wastin’ good food on that mutt.” You look up as Arthur walks over to join you, and you smile because in spite of his harsh words he still reaches down to give Cain an affectionate scratch behind the ears. He could try to hide his growing fondness for the dog but Arthur Morgan wasn’t fooling anyone, especially you.

Meanwhile, Cain had finished his jerky and he looks up at Arthur and then back at you, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he pants, and you show the dog your empty hands with a shrug.

“S’all I had, boy,” you inform him, and Cain just stares at you for another moment before he leaps to his feet and trots off in the direction that Jack had gone. You shake your head with a laugh, knowing that he’s going to go whining to the other ladies like he hasn’t eaten in days. Cain could’ve made quite the con-artist in another life.

“Spoilin’ that damn dog,” Arthur remarks, leaning back against the tree behind him as he watches the dog trot away and you glance back at him, smiling when you spot the mild pout on his face. He looks back at you when he hears you chuckle, his frown deepening. “What?”

“You gettin’ jealous of that dog ‘cause I don’t make him beg like I do with you?” You ask with a sly smile, and you’d made the teasing remark to try and get a rise out of him but to your surprise Arthur just laughs and folds his arms over his chest.

“Sure, but I like to think that I’m gettin’ a much better reward than the dog is when I resort to beggin’.” Arthur replies, and the heated look he gives you is almost enough to make your face flush but you try to will it away. No point in letting him win that easily. “Most I’ve seen Cain get is a big ol’ hunk of meat.”

“That’s not so bad, y’know, considerin’ that’s what I usually want from _you_ when I beg-” You don’t even get to finish your little dirty joke before Arthur reaches out to grab your wrist, pulling you up against him and he presses a rough kiss to your lips, his other arm slipping around your waist to hold you close.

You’re certainly not going to complain but you are a little surprised; Arthur's not usually one for open affection in the middle of the camp like this but then again you’re largely blocked from view by the thick tree beside you, and everyone still seems too occupied with unpacking and sorting all the supplies to really notice either of you.

Arthur eventually draws back and you sigh softly as he does, your face definitely flushed now and lips still tingling pleasantly from the after-effects of sharing such a great kiss. You could get lost in this man and his affections so easily – _you certainly have before_ – and the way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows it too.

“Just what kind of a foul-mouthed lady are you anyway?” Arthur asks playfully, and the two of you exchange grins before leaning in for another kiss.

“The best kind, Mr. Morgan,” you say as you switch to shorter but less heated kisses, and Arthur groans softly against your mouth when your hands find his hips to drag him in closer. “The kind that can run around with a bunch of ruffian outlaws like you lot and keep up with the best of ‘em.”

“That you can, darlin’..” Arthur says softly, with something close to awe in both his voice and in his eyes as he looks at you.

Your blush spreads under his attention but you say nothing else, and instead just let him push you back against the tree to ravish you with his mouth and hands until your needy moans are nearly loud enough to draw attention of others.

You’re just glad that Jack is effectively distracted with his candy by the time that actually happens.

* * *

 


	5. Shave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender-Neutral reader.  
> Some very mild spoilers for missions that take place in Chapter 3, but they don't go into too much detail.

* * *

 

“We should be headin’ out soon instead of wastin’ time on this.” Arthur says for what you think is the fourth time that morning, and it takes everything you have not to roll your eyes at his impatience. He doesn’t miss it though, brow furrowing as he lets out a soft sigh. “I’m serious.. After what went down at the bar yesterday, we might as well have been paradin’ through town and tellin’ the O’Driscolls right where we are.”

“You say that like you and Hosea didn’t know the risk you were takin’.” You reply promptly, not looking at Arthur but instead keeping your focus on the small batch of shaving soap that you were currently mixing up for him. Arthur huffs at your words, but you still don’t meet his gaze as you reach a free hand up to make him tilt his head back. “Am I wrong? Ya’ll went to a saloon and started throwin’ free moonshine around and for what? To stir up tensions and make a few quick bucks?”

“It panned out, didn't it? Dutch has a new plan now.” Arthur says and this time you do roll your eyes, while pointedly ignoring the sigh that Arthur lets out.

He won’t take it personal. You and Arthur both knew how much you still owed Dutch, and despite having some of the same doubts and questions that Arthur and Hosea did you’ve never done anything so far to make Dutch or anyone else question your loyalty to him and his gang. You never planned to either.

But damned if you weren’t so tired of hearing folks say that ‘Dutch has a plan’ every other week, including Dutch himself.

Sure, a lot of those plans of his have actually played out in the gang’s favor so far but you’ve burned bridges in several of the nearby towns already, and the bounties on half the gang’s men certainly weren’t going down as a result. The O’Driscolls were still out there, the Pinkertons were still out there, and now you’ve all gotten yourselves mixed up with the nearby town’s feuding families, not to mention a few gunfights that have turned the local Lemoyne raiders into shoot-on-sight enemies too.

You were all pressing your luck with each of these new plans and jobs that were pulled, and you knew from personal experience that dumb luck only stretched so far before it finally snapped.

You refrain from saying any of this out loud, but it’s safe to assume that Arthur probably knows exactly what you’re thinking. He always has and probably always will.

His eyes don’t leave your face, his own expression remaining unreadable as you start to lather the thick soap mix along his scruffy jaw with the brush. He didn’t want all of his facial hair shaved off, just a trim really, and you’ve already gone as far as you could with scissors alone. Now it was time for a razor.

It was a bit of a shame, honestly; he’d really looked damn good with his beard growing out so much like that, but at least you’d managed to convince him not to cut his hair just yet. The ends had just reached past the nape of his neck and maybe the request had been a little self-indulgent on your part, but you’d grown rather fond of being able to brush your fingers through his growing locks whenever the two of you were able to enjoy some downtime together.

Besides, that particular indulgence couldn’t possibly be one-sided, considering how much Arthur seemed to enjoy you tugging on his hair during the throes of your more passionate nights together.

“You gotta have some faith in Dutch.” Arthur eventually speaks up again, staring up towards the sky as you start the first drag of the razor along his jawline. The freshly-sharpened blade easily cuts away the longer hairs while still leaving a thick layer of stubble behind. “Sure, I’ll admit this is one of his more ambitious ideas, but if it plays out in our favor then we’re sittin’ on one hell of a payout. Might even be enough to finally get out the state and head out further west like we planned.”

“This ain’t about me not havin’ faith in Dutch!” You snap, tone coming out much sharper than you’d intended, and Arthur frowns as you let out a sigh, taking a moment to wipe some of the soap from the razor blade. When you meet his gaze again you make sure that your expression has softened, if only to let him know that your frustration isn't being directed at him. “I’m just worried about everyone, Arthur.. Y'know that I’ll follow you and Dutch down into Hell if it comes to it, but that don’t mean that I want the demons we face to be followin’ us out.”

Arthur says nothing as you look around the camp, taking in the sight of the scattered crowd that you've come to call your family.

You can see Hosea and Tilly sitting across the way playing dominoes together while Mary-Beth reads aloud to them from one of her books. Kieran’s standing nearby, his attention seemingly on the horses that he’s tending to, but judging by the occasional glance that he gives Mary-Beth he’s likely listening and trying to follow along with her story.

Sean sits on an overturned log a few yards away from the table, showing off some (hopefully unloaded) gun tricks to a wide-eyed Jack, who sat at Sean's feet while Cain snoozed quietly at the boy's side. Beside them, Abigail seems busy with mending some old shirts, though she does shoot the young Irishman a warning glare whenever Jack asks if he can try to do one of the tricks himself.

Dutch sits around the campfire with Bill, Javier, Karen, and John, all of them singing along to a favored song while Uncle strums out some music. Even Pearson and Sadie seem to be acting amicably towards each other, chatting quietly and only bickering a little as they skin and prepped a deer for the latest batch of stew.

You can’t quite see everyone from where you stand but you know that the others are all nearby, tending to the daily chores or keeping an eye out on the perimeter of the camp, and you sigh again.

“I wanna keep ‘em all safe, Arthur.” You look back towards him but don’t meet his gaze, instead keeping your eyes on his jawline once more as you shave away more of the lengthy whiskers. “I can’t help worryin’ that trouble’s gonna follow us back here sooner or later, and the thought of losin’ any of our folks to it, especially if little Jack were to get caught up in the chaos, I don’t know what I’d..”

Your words trail off as a familiar but unpleasant weight settles low in your gut. Everyone here knew the kind of life that came with being a part of the Van der Linde gang, but knowing the price and paying it were two drastically different things, and if you all weren’t careful then you could end up burying some of your family before any of these gambles paid off for the rest of them.

“Hey, look at me now..” Arthur says and you don’t, instead moving to start on shaving the other side of his face but then he reaches up, his hand grasping yours to still the movement and you frown, but only avoid his gaze for another moment before finally meeting it. “You ain’t the only one carryin’ these fears, love..” He reaches up to brush a hand against your cheek before he cups the back of your head and you close your eyes, taking pleasure in the warmth and strength of his touch and it’s almost enough to wash away your lingering fears. Almost.

“Now this new plan Dutch has, to play these families from both sides, I know it’s risky and I’ve already told him that I ain’t entirely sold on it, but we’re gonna do this together.” Arthur continues as you open your eyes to look at him again. “We’re gonna play it as safe as we can, and if it looks like it’s gonna backfire against the rest of the gang then we’ll fall back and come up with somethin’ else, okay?”

“Ya really think Dutch’ll just let it all go like that?” You highly doubt it, and you can see some of Arthur’s doubts as well but then he gives you a warm smile, eyes full of promise and reassurances that you want so badly to believe in.

“If it comes to that, then you let me worry about Dutch.”

You still don’t picture that outcome going over well, but at least you know that if anyone could talk Dutch into taking a different approach then it’d be Arthur, especially if Hosea was there to speak up on everyone’s behalf as well. It didn’t ease your doubts all the way, but the thought of Arthur being ready to cut bait if need be was still reassuring enough.

His confident words manage to get a smile from you at least, small but sincere, and Arthur’s own smile grows when he sees it.

“I know you’re worried, love, and I’ll admit to ya that I am too, but we’ll get through it like we always do..” Arthur says, and neither of you bother to vocally acknowledge that maybe the gang did always get through it, but they’ve yet to do so without some kind of casualty or another. “There’s a dozen ways this can go down but no matter how it does, leave Dutch to me, and you just worry 'bout keepin’ the gang from turnin’ on each other like they usually do.”

“Oh, I see how it is, Mr. Morgan.. Givin’ yourself the easy job.” That manages to get a soft laugh from Arthur and you smile, the both of you starting to lean forward to exchange a kiss out of habit before remembering that Arthur’s face is still half-caked in a layer of soap. You settle for pressing a kiss to his forehead instead, and Arthur settles back with a smile to let you finish shaving his face.

The two of you keep chatting throughout the rest of it but you leave the conversation about Dutch and his plans behind, for the moment at least, because you know that it will just make Arthur promise that everything will turn out okay. You’ve got enough on your mind already without hearing promises you know can’t always be kept.

But the steady sound of his voice and occasional laughter is enough to finally soothe some of your lingering nerves away, and you do manage to take comfort in knowing that no matter how this plan ended up going, Arthur would try his hardest to make sure everything turned out in the gang’s favor.

Sometimes hoping for the best was all you could do in this life, but as long as you had Arthur and the rest of this motley crew beside you, you knew you could manage. For them.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fun fact, letting Arthur's hair grow long while his beard stays short is exactly what I'm doing in my playthrough.


	6. Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender-Neutral reader.  
> Content warning for mild gore/descriptions of injury.

* * *

  
“Well, that’s enough of that..” You give the scrawny bluegill hanging off of your line a scowl before gently prying the fish off the hook and tossing it back into the water. “Not gonna bother keepin’ this up if all the good one’s are just gonna go to you, Arthur.”

“It’s 'cause ya keep usin’ the wrong kind of bait,” Arthur tries to explain but you wave him off as you sit down onto one of the nearby boulders, and prop your fishing pole up beside you.

Jack looks over, and apparently sees your resignation as a sign that he can give up too. He sighs as he reels his line back in, the soft noise somehow sounding so dramatic that you have to bite back a smile, and Jack shuffles over to prop his small pole up next to yours.

“Fishing is so boring..” Jack says to you, dropping down to sit at your feet and you give the kid’s shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“It really is, isn’t it?” You reply as the young boy beside you nods, and Arthur gives the pair of you a sour look over his shoulder before he turns his gaze back out towards the river. “That’s why we’re gonna leave all of that to Uncle Arthur. He likes borin’ stuff, y’know. Caught him watchin’ the grass grow the other day.”

Jack laughs at the absurdity of your joking words and Arthur looks over again, narrowing his eyes at you with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, keep runnin’ yer mouth back there. Y’all ain’t gonna be sayin’ that when yer eatin’ this fish tonight.” Arthur says, and you scoff as you watch him give the pole a quick tug to try and entice a fish to go after his lure. “Ya wanna give me a hand, here? Might be borin’, but it needs to be done if we wanna eat tonight.”

“Technically _you_ volunteered to come catch us some dinner,” you remind him, grinning when he shoots you another look. “My job today was keepin’ an eye on Jack here until Abigail gets back from that ‘girl’s day out’ that Mary-Beth and Karen dragged her out on.”

Not that you ever minded looking after Jack, but you knew that you’d probably be watching over the boy until his bedtime, at least. You didn’t know what their plans had been before they left, but considering that Karen was the apparent leader of the outing it was most likely going to end at the bar.

“So what are we gonna do?” Jack asks, looking up at you before he shoots the river a look of distaste. “I don’t wanna fish anymore..”

“Well, Jack.. Why don’t you teach me how to make one of those fancy flower necklaces?” You suggest, and then smile at the way his face immediately lights up. You already know how to make them, or at least you used to back when you were a kid but that was decades ago, and Jack seems more eager now than you’ve seen him look all day.

“Wait here!” Jack says before he scurries off, running back towards the patch of flowers that he’d been picking others from earlier, and you keep a watchful eye on the boy until you hear a quiet chuckle beside you. You glance over, raising an eyebrow as Arthur just stares at you with a smile.

“Somethin’ funny, Morgan?” You ask with a hint of a playful challenge in your tone and Arthur just shakes his head, slipping more bait onto his hook before he steps towards the edge of the river.

“Nothin’ much,” Arthur replies, taking a moment to cast his line back out before he looks over at you again, that soft smile still on his face. “It’s just nice to see ya gettin' back to yer old self. Seems like ya haven’t relaxed once since that mess with Cornwall’s men back in Valentine.”

“Yeah, gettin’ shot and chased outta town by thugs can do that to ya.” It’s a joke, but you do see Arthur’s smile falter at the reminder that you’d gotten shot during the retreat, and it hadn’t been something to brush off like the usual grazes that you got during firefights.

No, that bullet had gotten you good, piercing through your abdomen from behind and knocking the wind clean out of you. You’d nearly fallen off your horse from the sudden pain but just barely managed to keep yourself upright by gripping the saddle horn instead of the reigns, while your other hand struggled to slow the bleeding.

You can vaguely recall Arthur threatening to throw Strauss off of his horse in favor of taking you instead, but the rest of the evening after that is pretty fuzzy. You remember finally getting to camp after what felt like the longest ride of your life, and you remember there being a lot of whiskey, both for you to drink and for them to clean the wounds with.

After that there was just searing hot pain that even the whiskey couldn’t fully numb, and you can recall letting out muffled screams against the palm that Arthur held over your mouth as he and John held you still. Hosea and Abigail had been there too, carefully extracting the fragments of the bullet out of your body before they could cauterize the wound shot.

Thankfully, you’d actually passed out before they got to that part, and you’d even missed the bandages and stitching that they’d applied to the smaller grazes you’d gotten during the fight. Shame.

That had not been a good day for you, and after passing out you woke up in your tent almost a full day later to see Arthur hovering over you, eyes red-rimmed and very groggy from an apparent lack of sleep. But the way he’d smiled as soon as he realized you were awake, eyes suddenly shining with relief instead of exhaustion, was one of the best things that you’d ever woken up to.

“Not one of my best moments,” you eventually say, going for humor again to try chasing away some of the tension that the sudden memory had brought. You see Arthur frown, but he has no time to speak before both of your names are being called, and you turn to see Jack running back towards you with his arms full of flowers.

“Here!” Jack drops the pile at your feet before he kneels down to start sorting them by color. You can’t help but laugh softly at his youthful enthusiasm, and then struggle not to do so again when he fixes you with the sternest look that he can. It’s far from intimidating on his round little face but you still straighten up obediently, and that seems to placate Jack before he hands you a small pile of blue wildflowers. “You gotta be serious!”

“As the plague, Jack.” You promise, crossing a hand over your heart for effect and you hear Arthur let out an amused snort that he tries to disguise as a cough but Jack pays him no mind, clearly too focused on sharing his flowery talents with you.

“Mama likes the red ones, so you get all the blue ones!” Jack informs you matter-of-factly as he sits down across from you, and once again you struggle not to laugh at the serious look on his face. “Now find one with a real long stem!” You do so, holding it up for Jack’s approval and he nods back at you. “Now, take another flower, and you gotta wrap the stem over and around the first one, like this..”

In retrospect you’re very glad that you asked for Jack’s help, because as it turned out you had _definitely_ forgotten how to weave flowers together in such a delicate way.

Jack’s quick to notice this too, and seems to puff out his chest a little when he realizes just how much help you need. Definitely his father’s son, that boy, and Jack giggles happily when you say so out loud. You laugh too, reaching over to ruffle his hair and the boy quickly leaps to his feet to retaliate, and you hold your nearly-finished flower crown out of the way with another laugh as his small hands push against your hair.

“Go on, Jack! Don’t let yourself get pushed around!” Arthur suddenly calls over and you try to shoot him a playful glare but in that moment of distraction Jack manages to knock you over, sending you flopping onto your side and Arthur just laughs again as Jack stands over you, beaming in utter delight at having just bested you. “There you go!”

“Whose side are you on, Morgan?!” You laugh, managing to straighten yourself up and you grab Jack in one arm, holding the laughing boy against your side as you try to smooth your hair back with your free hand.

“I’m on the winner’s side,” Arthur says, and when you look over you can see him dismantling his pole. A very full bag of fish sits at his feet, and you suddenly find yourself very eager to get them back to Pearson. Nothing worked up the appetite like making flower crowns and being physically overpowered by small children. “Never bet against the underdog.”

“After that take-down I think I might be the underdog,” you say and Jack laughs again as he wriggles out of your grasp, though you stop him from bragging any further by passing him one of the candies you had tucked away in your coat pocket. “Just need another minute to finish this crown up though.”

“I already finished mine!” Jack declares, clearly proud but not bragging this time, and you let out an impressed whistle when he holds it up for you and Arthur to see. “Think mama’s gonna like it?”

“I’m sure she’d love it, Jack,” Arthur replies, walking around to gather up the rest of the scattered supplies, and you glance at him in time to see him give the boy a playful wink. “But you gave her the necklace last time. Might be your daddy’s turn to get somethin’ that nice.”

The thought of John walking around with a flower crown on makes both you and Jack laugh, and you wait until the boy’s back is turned before you walk over towards Arthur, your now-finished flower crown still in hand and a smile on your face.

“What's that look for..?” Arthur starts to ask but then he pauses mid-step when he sees what you’re holding, and narrows his eyes as you keep walking towards him. “Oh no, don’t even think-!” He tries to block you but you grab his wrist with one arm, dropping the flower crown onto his head and then grabbing his other wrist as he reaches up to grab it. He could probably shrug you off pretty easily if he wanted to, but he just narrows his eyes as you grin at him. “Think yer real funny, don’t’ ya?”

“I’m a damned delight and you know it,” you reply, leaning forward to press a kiss to Arthur’s lips and effectively cutting off whatever he was about to say. You smile as you pull back from it, and then lower your voice to a whisper. “Besides, you take that off and Jack might think that ya don’t like it. What would that say about his teachin’ skills?”

“I got half a mind to throw you in the river,” Arthur threatens playfully, pulling his wrists from your grasp and you think he's going to take the crown off but instead he grabs you by the waist, tugging you closer to him. “But then I’d have to get ya out, and I think I’ve done more than enough fishin’ for today.”

“Just swallow your pride and admit that ya like it.” You say, and Arthur chuckles again as you both lean in for another warm kiss, then another, and only pull apart when you hear a soft noise of disgust beside you.

“That’s gross, Uncle Arthur!” Jack says, and when you stick your tongue out at him he does the same thing right back at you.

“Just give it a few more years, Jack.” Arthur says, ruffling the boy’s hair before he looks over at you with a tender smile. “Soon you’ll be old enough to find someone that ya don’t mind bein’ gross with.”

“You put history’s greatest romance writers to shame, Mr. Morgan.” You say, but Arthur’s words still bring a pleasant flush to your cheeks, one that he can clearly see judging by the smirk that he gives you. He leans in to give you one more quick kiss, chuckling at Jack’s continued commentary, and you start to follow after him but then stop when you realize that the bag of fish is still sitting by the river.

“Hey, forgettin’ somethin’, Arthur?” You call out, pointing towards the bag with a thumb but Arthur just glances back at you, shaking his head with a smile that you don’t like the look of.

“Jack's ridin' with me this time,” Arthur says, hopping up onto his horse and reaching down to pick Jack up before you can move forward to stop him. You gape at them both, and Jack waves at you as he settles himself down into the saddle comfortably. “I caught the fish, so _you_ get to haul ‘em back now.”

“You’re a real son of a bitch, Morgan!” You shout as Arthur’s horse starts to trot away, and you can still hear both him and Jack laughing when you double back to retrieve the bag, glad to find that it’s not nearly as heavy as you expect it to be.

Unfortunately, the collective smell is already as bad as you feared, and if Arthur thinks you’re not going to put one of these fish under his cot in retaliation for this then he’s got another thing coming.

You'll get your revenge. But the real highlight of your evening comes when you get back to the Clemens Point camp and see both Arthur and John strutting around with flower crowns on their heads while Jack sits nearby, proudly telling anyone within earshot that he'd taught you how to make them.

That, more than anything else, makes this entire day worth it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love little Jack so much.. 💗 Thanks to TrampledFlowers for the prompt~


	7. Argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of canon character death but this is set right at the beginning of the game.

* * *

  
You’re exhausted from all the running, angry at yourself for everything you'd just left behind, and it's nearly gotten to the point where you can’t even feel your fingers despite the thick gloves you’re wearing. Just one more little thing to make this shitty situation even shittier..

The heavy snowstorm still raging on around you isn’t helping in the least, and you have to squint just to make out the shape of the wagon in front of you. Beside you, Bill and Arthur seem to be in similar states, both men breathing hard and visibly shivering on their horses, and you continue on in silence for a short while longer before steering your horse closer to Arthur’s.

He glances up when he notices your approach, brow furrowing, and you see him glance over your shoulder briefly as if he was expecting to see something or someone heading towards the wagons. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“There will be soon if we don’t get out of this cold,” you reply, pushing your scarf down from where it covered your mouth to keep it from obscuring your voice. “How much longer is this gonna go on, Arthur? Does Dutch even know where he’s leadin' us?”

“Didn’t bother askin,” Arthur replies, and you frown when you hear that his tone is much sharper than you’d expected it to be. You're not too surprised; things are tense as Hell within the gang, and have been all day. But you’re also not very fond of the fact that Arthur apparently intends to take his frustrations out on you, not when you were just asking out of concern for everyone else. “Ya need to get back into position in case somethin’ happens.”

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen..” You ignore his commands, instead nudging your horse forward so that he kept pace with Arthur’s, and you hear Arthur huff under his breath before he glances over towards you again. “Tell Dutch to send me out ahead. I grew up near these mountains, might be able to help us get our bearings."

“Last thing we need is to have everyone splittin’ up.” Arthur answers with a shake of his head, raising his voice a little to be heard over the howling wind. “If Dutch thinks that we need some scouts then he’ll send ‘em, but I ain’t gonna insist, not ‘til we know the law ain’t still on our heels.”

“Are ya jokin’ right now? Look around, Arthur; we can barely see the damn wagons in front of us!” You gesture to the heavy snow still falling all around you, and Arthur’s scowl deepens. “Them lawmen ain’t stupid enough to try followin’ us in this, but if we don’t find somewhere to stop then we’ll all freeze to death! Who knows how much more of this Jack can take?”

“They’ll keep Jack warm as they can back there, but we’re followin’ Dutch’s lead on this.” Arthur replies, frowning again as he turns his head to meet your gaze, and it only deepens when he finds that you’re now scowling back at him in return. “Look now, I don’t know what you think yer gonna get by botherin’ me.”

“I dunno, Morgan, maybe I was hopin’ you’d actually step forward and try to do somethin’ instead of just followin’ Dutch like a slack-jawed lackey!” Your own tone is sharp now but you can’t help it; you’ve barely said a word since this entire ordeal had begun and the frustration that had been steadily building up inside you was starting to spill through the cracks of your calm façade.

Arthur seems to recoil from your words a little. He must realize that you're actually mad because you rarely ever called him 'Morgan' like that, but he just shakes his head with another angry huff, his own expression morphing from annoyed to angry as he gives you an almost challenging look, one that you meet with an even glare. “An’ just what'n the hell are ya gonna do out there anyway? Pretend ya know where we are 'cause ya ran around here as a goddamn kid? You’d be lucky to make it half a mile ‘fore ya had to come runnin’ back!”

“Oh, yer absolutely right, Morgan! Insultin’ me instead of doin’ somethin’ useful is definitely gonna solve all our goddamn problems!” You look back towards the occupants of the wagon behind you, ignoring the fact that they're all purposely avoiding your gaze as you wave a hand towards Arthur. “Ya hear that everyone? Just be a stubborn jackass like Arthur here and that’ll fix everythin’!”

You actually hear Arthur growl as he grips his reigns with one hand and reaches out to grasp your wrist with the other, his hold not tight enough to actually hurt you but it’s still strong enough to stop you from gesturing towards him. “Don’t start draggin’ everyone else into yer damn tantrum now-!”

“I’m ‘bout to start draggin’ ya behind my horse if ya don’t let me go!” you snap back at him and Arthur releases you with an angry curse, throwing a hand up in frustration before he urges his horse to start trotting away from yours. You’re quick to follow after him, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulder so you can spin him around to face you this time. “We ain’t done here!”

“I say we’re done.” Arthur growls back at you, and he starts to head off again but then he turns back around to glare when he hears your horse still following closely after his own. “I ain’t jokin', woman! I’m not in the mood for this right now..”

“Well ya better get yourself in the damn mood, Arthur Morgan, 'cause I’m still talkin’ to you-!”

“That’s enough of that!”

Both you and Arthur stop glaring and turn away from each other to see Dutch riding in your direction, and even with the snow obscuring your vision you can see the mixture of anger and disappointment burning in Dutch’s eyes as he glares over at the pair of you. Behind him, the other wagons have stopped and you begin to feel a little sheepish now. “Have you both lost your damn minds? We’ve already got more than enough problems right now without you two standing around and arguing like this!"

“It's Arthur here bein' a stubborn bastard-”

“Dutch, will ya just tell this damn girl-”

“Enough!” Dutch snaps and once again you and Arthur both fall silent, though unlike him you at least have the decency to look a little ashamed about being scolded by Dutch like a child. Beside you, Arthur just mutters something under his breath and you hear Dutch sigh, but then his stern expression seems to soften just a little. “Look now, everyone’s too on edge for this. They’re all hungry, scared, and this snowstorm isn't doin’ us any favors either.. Arthur, why don’t you go with John and Micah to scout ahead?”

It’s not really a question, and you look over at Dutch sharply as Arthur grunts a quiet affirmation. “What?! Why’re ya sendin’ him? I’m the one who’s actually been through this area-!”

“I’m sending him because you’re going to bring up the rear and cool your head off.” Dutch replies, his frown deepening when you just gape at him again. “Maybe you’ll even get lucky and see somethin' to shoot back there so you take that temper of yours out on somethin’ other than another person!”

“Dutch, that’s not fair-!” You start to object, feeling a little like a petulant child but Dutch just waves a hand and then turns his horse around to ride back to the front of the group. You scowl at his retreating form, feeling the burn of most of the gang’s eyes on you, but then you just turn your own horse around and head towards the rear of the furthest wagon with an angry huff.

You do glance back towards Arthur briefly as he rides over to join up with John and Micah, and you’re not entirely surprised to find that he’s already looking at you.

His expression is largely unreadable but you know him well enough to see that hint of remorse in his eyes behind the lingering anger, and you don’t want it to, but seeing it does actually soothe some of your own remaining attitude. You hadn’t intended to snap like that earlier, and you don’t want him to leave before you get the chance to apologize but you’re also not sure how sincere you can sound until you calmed down a bit.

You know Dutch is probably right, and that all that yelling at each other was just because you were all in a dire and dangerous situation. He also clearly knows that it's not like you and Arthur to have a go at each other like that, but there’s nothing more to be said right now because the gang keeps moving and Arthur doesn’t look back again as he and the other two men break off to scout ahead.

The wagons keep going for a long while, moving steadily but slowly through the deep snow. You try to ignore the chill clinging so tightly to you as you follow a few yards behind the rear wagon, keeping an eye out for any incoming dangers.

Fortunately nothing seems to be following you – though that unfortunately means that you don’t get to shoot anything – and eventually someone from the scouting party returns with news of a place that the gang could camp at to get out of the snowstorm. You can hear the muffled voices ahead but you’re not sure who it is, thanks to the thick snow still coming down and obscuring your vision, so you just follow the lantern light of the wagon in front of you while gently assuring your tired horse that the journey was almost over.

The ‘place’ turns out to be an old mining town, not what you expected and long-since abandoned by the looks of it, but thankfully the buildings are all intact enough to offer some adequate shelter, for the gang but also hopefully for the exhausted horses as well.

A few provisions are grabbed by the women before the wagons are emptied of their occupants, and the horses are led to a nearby stable by Lenny, Bill, and Javier. You linger outside for a few moments longer with Dutch and Hosea, all of you making sure that everyone else had made it inside before following after them, and as you take a moment to kick off some of the snow that had become caked onto your boots you shiver in a way that’s not related to the cold.

A small part of you is still denying the Hell that the gang’s just gone through in the past few days. You want to believe that Jenny’s not actually dead even though you'd been at her side when she passed. You don’t want to admit that Sean and Mac are both missing and possibly dead because then that means you have even fewer friends left in the world. You try to ignore the fact that Davey’s suffering through his final moments while you’re all powerless to offer him any further aide; you and Davey had never gotten along particularly well, but that didn't mean that you wanted it to end like this for him. He'd still been your family, in his own obnoxious way.

But all that denial and regret isn’t changing anything, and it isn't bringing any of your lost friends back so instead you just try to be grateful for the amount of people still here with you. You could have lost a whole lot more than you just did, after all..

You settle yourself into one of the less-crowded corners, shivering harder when Davey’s finally announced as dead – you’re pretty sure that he was already dead when they carried him in - but you don’t look up again until you feel a sturdy hand suddenly gripping your shoulder.

It’s Arthur. You frown as soon as your gaze meets his, but you just don’t have the strength or will to shrug his hand off of you. He does give your shoulder a light squeeze upon realizing that you’re not going to push him away, and that remorse from earlier is shining in his eyes again as he lets out a deep, tired sigh.

“Look now..” Arthur starts, turning to sit down beside you, and he seems a little more encouraged when you don’t object to his presence, though you do look away from him. “I ain’t gonna say either of us was right or wrong back there, but.. I’m still sorry for what I said to ya, okay? Now ain’t the time for us to be turnin’ on each other like that.”

“You can be frustratin’ as hell, Arthur, but it’d take a lot more than a little spat like that to turn me against ya.” You keep your eyes on the floor ahead of you for a few more moments before you finally look over at Arthur again. He gives you a hint of a smile, though his wariness is evident, and you try to put him at ease with a small smile of your own. “But.. thanks for apologizin’, and I’m sorry for what I said too. I'm scared, Arthur, and I was wrong to take it out on ya, it’s just..” You look away again, shaking your head with a tired sigh of your own. “I think things are still sinkin’ in for me..”

“Me too, darlin'.” Arthur replies quietly. You tremble a little before he reaches over to gently grasp your hand, and you like to think that you can still feel the warmth of his touch even through both of your thick gloves. “Losin’ Jenny an’ Davey after everythin’ else that happened back in Blackwater, and now us not knowin’ if Sean and Mac are still out there.. It’s a lot of misery to take in, an' now we’re just lookin’ for somewhere new to live.”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out..” you say with much more confidence than you feel, because having men like Dutch and Hosea around at least makes it easier for you to think that the Van der Linde gang would be back on their feet soon enough. “We found this place so now we can at least catch our breath an’ decide what the next step for everyone is gonna be.."

“Might be easier said than done, but maybe yer right..” Arthur sighs, giving the hand that he was still holding a faint squeeze and you lean yourself closer to him, nudging your head lightly against his shoulder in a quick display of affection before drawing back. “An’ after everything else we just went through, I’m.. I’m just glad that yer still here with us. With me, I mean..”

“Ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily, cowboy.” You nudge your shoulder against Arthur’s, finally feeling the last of the lingering tension between you and him fading away. He chuckles softly at the familiar gesture, looking for a moment like he wants to say something else but he’s cut off by the sound of Dutch suddenly calling for both you and him.

“C’mon then..” Arthur gets to his feet with a soft grunt before reaching a hand back for you, and the last thing that you want to do right now is go back out into this storm but Dutch's orders aren't to be ignored, especially not since he might still be sore with you over the earlier incident. You grab Arthur’s hand to let him pull you up, giving him a quick nod of thanks before you follow after him to see what Dutch wants.

It’s been a long few days and you’re sure that it’s going to be another long night but like Arthur said, the both of you were still alive, and as long as you didn’t let the events of Blackwater tear you apart then you’d get through whatever life had in store for you and the gang.

Some way or another, with Arthur there, you know you’ll be okay.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a bit of Writer's Block lately, but I'm finally starting to get through it now. Also, I've gotten some already but I'd love to hear more ideas/word prompts from you guys!


	8. Lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Male!Reader.   
> Slight warning for closeted sexualities.

* * *

  
“Another toast then, everyone!” Sean climbs onto a nearby crate as he raises his fourth bottle of beer, his voice more than a little slurred from the amount of said liquid that he’s already ingested, and he grins as the majority of the camp raise up their own various drinks in return. “To a job well done, and to a hefty haul we got outta it!”

“An’ all we ‘ad to do fer it was shoot up a few raiders!” Uncle cheers, his voice even more slurred than Sean’s is, and he doesn’t bother waiting for everyone else before he throws back most of his drink in a single gulp, resulting in a few scattered cheers and a loud belch from him that echoes throughout the night air.

Arthur joins in on the good-natured laughter at Uncle’s expense, taking a healthy swig from his own bottle as everyone around him does the same. He’d had his fair share of doubts about hitting that raider hideout earlier but now, after seeing the spoils of their victory, he was certainly singing a different tune.

Several weeks worth of food, ammo, and medicine was all now the property of the Van der Linde gang, along with the rather sizable stash of money. Even better, the gang also now had half a crate full of gold bars that you’d discovered while checking through one of the storage sheds. Arthur had already made sure that they were safely tucked away just outside of the camp, ready to be cashed in as soon as they found a wealthy buyer.

Trelawny had insisted earlier that he knew a guy who would happily buy them, but knowing how that guy came and went Arthur was willing to just fence them one-by-one throughout the coming months if need be. He wasn’t going to lose out on your score over that sneaky bastard.

But speaking of you, Arthur then notices that he doesn’t see you walking around and sitting amongst everyone else, and he frowns to himself. You weren’t the most rambunctious fellow in the gang during these parties, but it still wasn’t like you to not mingle with everyone else at least a little, especially when they were all celebrating and in such high spirits.

Grabbing an extra bottle of whiskey for you just in case, Arthur gets to his feet and starts making his usual rounds throughout the camp, pausing occasionally to talk with someone or joining in on a couple of the songs that the scattered groups are singing, but he mostly focuses on keeping an eye out for you.

About ten minutes of searching and idle chatting later, Arthur comes to the conclusion that you’re not in the camp and he sighs under his breath. You weren’t in your tent, you weren’t mingling with the others, and Javier and Bill were on guard duty right now so you couldn’t have been out there either.

He wonders for a moment if you’ve slipped away from the camp for some other reason, but when he glances towards the hitching posts he can see your distinct red-and-white paint mare still standing and grazing along with the others.

“Where’n the hell is he..?” Arthur mumbles to himself, not yet worried but still curious as to your whereabouts, and his eyes scan over the camp again before they fall on Kieran, who is standing off to the side beside a tree as he sips from a bottle.

“Hey, O’Driscoll!” Arthur calls out and Kieran jolts at the sound of his voice, nearly dropping the bottle in his hands. He starts to speak as he turns around to face Arthur, probably to insist for the umpteenth time that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll, but he seems to give up when Arthur just narrows his eyes at him.

“Uh.. What can I do for you, Arthur?” Kieran asks, clearly a little nervous. Arthur’s quick to ask him if he knows your current whereabouts, but he can’t help but notice that Kieran isn’t as quick to give him an answer, and he sees the younger man’s eyes dart over towards the distant lake for a moment. “Well, he’s, uh..”

“Spit it out, boy!” Arthur snaps, prompting Kieran to jump back from him again before he starts looking back and forth between Arthur and the direction of the lake with a torn expression.

“W-Well, he went down to the lake a little while ago, b-but he asked me not to tell anyone where he was going!” Kieran replies, grimacing when he realizes that he’d just done the opposite of his apparent task, and Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“He say why he was goin’?” Arthur asks, leaning towards Kieran again but this time he’s honestly just amusing himself. The boy’s nerves were just too damn easy to rile up, and Kieran takes another hasty step back, blinking when his back hits the tree behind him.

“I dunno!” Kieran says, holding both hands up towards Arthur as if in surrender. “He didn’t say much except that he wanted to be alone for a bit, but..” Kieran pauses, as if considering whether or not he wanted to keep speaking. “He just.. He seemed a little off, is all.”

Arthur frowns again, though this time it’s not directed at Kieran, but rather the result of him feeling a sudden flicker of concern for you. He wouldn’t pretend that he knew every little quirk or habit of yours, but slinking off to be alone in the middle of a celebration like this certainly didn’t sound like something that you’d usually do.

“Keep on drinkin’, Kieran. Ya really need it.” Arthur pats Kieran on the shoulder before he keeps walking, probably a little harder than he should have, but he makes a beeline for the sandy shores of the campside lake, his concern for you growing a little more. He stops at the end of the grassy hill to look the shoreline over, and it only takes a moment for him to spot you.

You’re sitting on an old log only a few feet away from the edge of the water, a bottle held loosely in your hand and your gaze locked in front of you. You don’t look up, not even when Arthur walks over to stand behind the log, but you do actually jump when he suddenly clears his throat to get your attention, bottle falling from your grip.

“Tryin’ to give me a damn heart attack, Arthur?!” You huff, though you don’t actually sound mad, and you lean down to set your fallen bottle upright in the sand as Arthur steps over the log to close the distance between you even more. He looks down at you but you don’t meet his gaze, and instead just turn your eyes back towards the water. “So.. Does someone need me or somethin’?”

“Just me wonderin' where ya were..” Arthur replies honestly, and he sees now that Kieran had been right; something about your tone was definitely off, and he hesitates a moment before sitting down on the log beside you. He sees you frown but you don’t say anything, still don't look at him, and Arthur glances back over his shoulder briefly to make sure that no one else is nearby.

He can still hear a few muffled voices singing in the distance but he doesn’t see anyone other than the grazing horses, and he looks back at you before reaching over to gently grasp your hand. You almost recoil from his touch, and Arthur frowns at that.

“C’mon now..” He squeezes your hand, wondering for a moment if you’re going to pull away from him but thankfully you don’t. “Will ya just tell me what’s botherin’ ya?”

“Don’t see how tellin’ anyone will make it better..” you mumble, voice softer now than it had been a moment ago, and Arthur just keeps his gaze on you until you finally close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “One of the raiders that we killed earlier.. I used to know him.”

Arthur blinks. That’s not what he’d been expecting you to say but on the other hand, it wasn’t the first time he’s heard you say something like that. He knew that you’d actually grown up in this area, and you were bound to know at least a few of the people that saw the gang as enemies, but he’d never seen you reacting quite like this.

For a few moments he stays quiet, waiting to see if you’ll keep talking without any further prompting from him, but then he feels your hand starting to tremble against his. Arthur squeezes it again, trying to offer you any sort of comfort that he can, and you take another deep breath as if to calm yourself.

“Ya knew him?” Arthur gently asks to urge you on, and you let out a soft laugh that doesn’t sound the least bit sincere.

“Sayin' that’s an understatement, actually..” you start, trailing off for a moment before you look over at Arthur, and the pain he sees in your eyes makes his chest constrict. “Me an’ that fellow, we used to be a thing.. Or, at least as much of a thing as we could be without anyone else ever findin’ out.”

Well that’s.. another unexpected answer.

Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that, and he immediately feels annoyed with the small, ridiculous surge of jealousy that flashes through him. You had a history with other partners before you joined the gang, same as him, and his own sour feelings and doubts are the last damn thing that you need added onto your emotions right now.

“It wasn’t serious..” You continue on before you frown, and then shake your head as you brush a hand over your eyes. “Well.. We were a little serious when we were just with each other, but like I said, we couldn’t ever be anythin' more than friends outside of our own damn bedrooms..”

Arthur understands that.

Hell, he was still keeping this recently-discovered side of himself a secret from people who had known him for most of his life, and he’s not happy about that fact but he’s also not ready to make it known to the rest of the gang. He wants to believe that they’d accept it, that they’d at least understand that his attraction to men didn’t really change his attraction to women any, but as open-minded as most of the gang is, there’s still enough doubt to make him hold his tongue.

He’s just not ready to come out with all of this yet, but at least it’s made easier by the fact that you’re right there alongside him. He isn’t sure if he can say that you were _completely_ in the same boat – he’s personally never known you to show any serious interest in women at all – but that really didn’t matter, not since you had been the reason that he’d come to discover this part of himself in the first place.

Finding such a close friend in you had been a surprise, but that was nothing compared to finding love again. He hadn’t seen it coming, especially not with another man, but you’d still managed to weasel your way into the gang and then into Arthur Morgan’s heart. Not an easy task for sure, but he’s sure as Hell grateful now for the sheer stubbornness that you’d pursued him with..

You let out another deep sigh, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. He looks over to see you brush a hand over your face again, trying to be subtle in your actions, but he can still see the glistening in your eyes before you wipe it away.

“Hey, it’s okay to feel bad about losin' him,” Arthur says, and your shoulders stiffen for a moment before you look over at him. He offers you a small smile, still just trying to put you at ease, and you don’t smile back but the tension in your shoulders seems to loosen. “I’m just real sorry that things had to end this way..”

“It was always going to end this way for him.” you reply, not bothering to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I tried tellin' him over and over that we had enough saved up to leave, and that joinin' a raider gang was gonna be a damn death sentence but he just wouldn’t listen. That stupid, stubborn bastard..”

“He ever hurt you?” The words leave his mouth before Arthur can stop himself and he inwardly flinches, but when you look over again you give him a faint smile, and it's more sincere than all your others so far.

“Never physically, but it did hurt when he started to change..” You turn your face towards the lake again, a distant look in your eyes. “Must sound weird comin’ from another outlaw, but one day he just started takin’ things too far. He took more than we needed, killed people that we could’ve spared.” You close your eyes with another heavy sigh. “Or maybe that’s how he always was, and I was just too damn desperate to have some love in my life to see it..”

“Always seems to come too late, don’t it, lookin’ back and seein’ all the ugliness that our love made us blind to..?” Arthur says before he reaches over to set a hand on your knee. You look up at him, that old sadness still burning in your eyes, but you do smile again when you feel his touch. “But I like to think that maybe we just gotta get through all that ugliness to find somethin’ better on the other side.”

“Am I your ‘somethin’ better’ then, Arthur?” You ask, sounding hesitant even though you’re still smiling.

Arthur chuckles quietly as he leans in towards you, moving his hand from your knee up to your face, and you feel his thumb brush against the damp spot beneath your eye before he presses his lips to yours.

You close your eyes as you lean into the kiss, reaching up to stroke his stubbled cheek in turn before Arthur draws his head back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Ya already know the answer to that,” he replies, his voice lower and so much rougher now, and he reaches over to pull you closer to him as he kisses you again.

A soft moan slips out of you when you feel one of Arthur’s hands massaging at your waist and he tilts his head to the side, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and you moan again at the first slow brush of his tongue against yours.

He tastes like whiskey, which you probably taste like too, and you slowly curl and tease your tongue against his, loving the soft moans that you manage to coax out of him with each stroke.

The need to breathe is the only thing that finally pulls the two of you apart and Arthur chases after your mouth for a moment before he catches himself, the soft flush of his face visible under the moonlight, and you manage not to take it personally when he shoots another glance towards the camp to make sure that you still had some privacy.

You understood, you just hoped that it wouldn’t always be like this. There were many things about yourself and your history that you preferred to keep locked away, but your love for Arthur certainly wasn’t one of them, and maybe if you’d just been more open with Geoffrey, then things between you wouldn’t have ended the way they did.

Well, there was no changing that now, but at least you could move forward with Arthur, and maybe it would be at a slow pace but you’d happily take that over having nothing with him any day.

“Ya wanna go back to the party?” You eventually ask Arthur, gesturing towards the camp again with a nod of your head. “I think I’m gonna stay out here a little longer, but I’ll try to socialize a bit before everyone starts passin' out, at least.”

“Nah.. I’m fine right where I am.” Arthur replies, taking your hand in his again. You smile back at him, a warm heat filling your chest as you lean in for another kiss that Arthur happily returns.

Honestly, you were pretty content to stay right here too.

* * *

 


	9. Touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender-Neutral reader.

* * *

  
The gestures start out so small, so casual that you've probably missed most of them.

It begins with Arthur’s fingertips briefly touching yours as you both reach for the coffee pot at the same time. No big deal. Then, a soft brush of his arm against your own as you lead your horses back to their hitching posts. Happens all the time.

They were such simple, everyday interactions. Ones that could be easily brushed off as unintentional if they stopped there, but they didn’t.

He often gave you a pat on the back after you'd carried another deer to Pearson’s wagon, and always gives your shoulder a quick squeeze when you assure him that you hadn’t gotten hit too badly during the latest shootout. His hands linger on yours as he shows you how to bait your fishing hook with one of those fancy lures he bought, and your knees bump together lightly as he sits down beside you in front of the campfire.

Casual still, but not familiar enough for you to just ignore.

One day Arthur had reached out towards you out of the blue, when the sun was shining but a strong wind was blowing, and he silently plucked a stray piece of grass from where it had gotten caught in your hair. His hand pulled back slowly, just faintly brushing against your cheek as it did, and you wonder later if he'd heard the way your breath had hitched at the light caress.

You can’t help but notice them more after that, can’t help but realize how frequent those little touches of his are becoming, and soon you find yourself looking forward to experiencing the next one. Maybe, you even start to crave it a little.

As if realizing that you were finally noticing them, his touches start to become bolder.

He nudges his shoulder against yours as you both carry bales of hay towards the horses, chuckling at a joke you’d just made. You get back from an overnight mission with Sean and Tilly and he’s standing at the edge of camp, as if he’d been waiting, and takes your hand to help you down from your horse even though you don’t need him to. But you let him, because you _want_ him to.

Truth be told, they were nice. Very nice. But you want more from him than just these little moments of contact.

Maybe this is happening now because he'd finally noticed the way you looked at him, and it makes you hopeful when you frequently catch him looking back at you. You don’t ask him outright of there’s something between you, as much as you might want to. The hints are there, but the risk of being wrong and ruining everything is still too high for your liking.

He doesn’t say anything to you either, and knowing him as well as you do, you hadn't expected him to be the first to speak up. But the lingering looks and casual touches keep on coming, day after day.

Then, one afternoon you’re walking back to camp together, guns returned to their holsters now that you’d both confirmed that the camp perimeter was clear, and Arthur suddenly reaches over to grab your hand. You stop walking, thinking for a moment that he was trying to keep you from running into something you hadn’t noticed; it’s happened before, damn rabbit burrows.

But then you look at Arthur and he’s staring back at you, his expression an unexpected mixture of optimistic but scared.

He swallows before looking down at your joined hands, giving you time to notice the soft flush on his face that’s spreading to his ears, and in that moment he somehow manages to ask the loaded question that's been hanging over your heads without using a single word.

For a few beats you don’t move or say anything but then you smile at him, adjusting your grip on his hand to entwine your fingers with his, and he quickly meets your gaze again. His look of utter surprise is as endearing to you as it is painful; it seems that he’d honestly been expecting you to turn him down and walk away – which you know because you’d felt his grip loosen just a little during your moment of hesitation – and then, finally, he smiles back at you.

He lets out a relieved sigh as you laugh, a short but obviously happy sound, and his eyes light up when you squeeze his hand, putting so much unspoken affection into your touch. It makes him smile again, a sight you'd never tire of seeing, and then the two of you keep walking towards the camp while ignoring the not-so-subtle whispers and soft gasps coming from the more perceptive members of the gang.

No doubt there will be questions and comments from everyone later but right now your focus is entirely on the man beside you, and the warm satisfaction of feeling Arthur’s hand holding yours.

* * *

 


	10. Coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this quick 'I'm not dead drabble'!
> 
> Also announcing that I have a tumblr now: Thirivms.tumblr.com   
> It's new and there's not much to see yet but I'll be posting my drabbles there as well along with other video game content.

* * *

 

Arthur was tired.

He was often tired these days but now in particular he could really use a quick break from all this, from the gang, and especially from the constant jobs that he’s been burning through for the past week. Yeah, most of them were done and paid for now and he’s got the satisfaction of knowing that he’s helped a few more of the decent folks around here, but that doesn’t make him feel any younger. Running around like that was a young man’s game, and some would probably argue that he was still in his prime, but they could tell that to his sore feet and aching back.

“Can’t do nothin’ but whine about it, can ya? Useless old bastard..” he mumbles under his breath, thankful that no one’s close enough to hear and give him an odd look (again) and Arthur brushes a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. He would try to take a nap but the camp’s a bit too lively right now and the sun won’t be down for a few more hours anyway, so he’ll have to find something to occupy his time with, or it was back to searching for that damn compass..

“Arthur?”

He jolts a little at the sound of his own name, and he looks up to see you suddenly standing there. You’re holding two cups of coffee, clearly offering one of them to him, and there’s an amused smile on your face but he can see that pinch of worry between your brows too. He wonders how long you've been there, and if you can see just how worn out he feels. “Ya looked like you could use a cup. Feelin’ alright?”

“M’fine,” Arthur replies, giving you a nod of thanks as he accepts the mug from your hand and takes a long sip of the strong, hot beverage with a hum of appreciation. Black, with just a small dash of sugar in it, just the way he liked it, and the corners of his mouth tug upwards. He feels so much better already, and it only has a little to do with the coffee. “Was just a bit lost in thought, is all.”

“I hear that,” you reply, turning to sit down on the log beside him, and for the moment neither of you says anything, only breaking the soft silence between you with steady sips of coffee as the camp continues to bustle on around you. Arthur feels no immediate need to break the silence any further, simply enjoying the feeling of having you so close to him, and you likewise seem just as content, if the soft sigh you let out is anything to go by. Eventually though you meet Arthur's gaze once more, offering him a tired but warm smile that he's quick to return. “Feels like this is the first moment I’ve had to breathe in days.”

“You an’ me both, sweetheart,” Arthur replies, shaking his head with a soft huff as he recalls the various errands and jobs that had him running every which way over the past few days. He didn’t mind the bounty hunts and debt collections as much, especially since he got paid well for most of those, but chasing after bag-thieving foxes and hunting for all sorts of trinkets from thimbles to pocket watches wasn’t exactly the most productive ways of spending his time. But hell if he didn’t still do it whenever someone in the gang asked him to fetch some item or other. Damn bad habit, that’s what it was, but at least now he still managed to find time for a quick break with good company. Speaking of which.. “You got anythin’ else planned for the day?”

“Was gonna head out an’ do a little huntin’.” You reply, taking another sip of your coffee before meeting Arthur’s eyes again. “Met a feller in town yesterday sayin’ he was lookin’ to buy some fox pelts, might be some easy money there.”

“Mind if I tag along?” Arthur asks, downing the last of his own drink and setting the mug down by his feet. “Need to get out of camp ‘fore someone else sends me out lookin’ for somethin’ they can get themselves.”

He doesn’t mean to sound bitter about it, since he doesn’t really mind helping the gang out and the things they send him after are usually easy enough to get, but he has to admit that sometimes it’s just plain tedious, and the lingering aches he feels aren't helping his attitude towards those fetch jobs.

“Sure ya feel up to it?” You raise a brow at him, and he huffs again when you make a show of looking him over. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Arthur, but ya look like ya need a nap more than a huntin’ trip.”

“I’ll sleep tonight, ain’t no point in tryin’ to sleep with all this noise anyway.” Arthur gestures to the busy camp, and then gets to his feet as if needing to prove to you that he had enough energy to go out and get some hunting done. Like you said, easy money, and the gang always had need for that. “We goin’ or what?”

You stare at him for a moment, looking like you might protest again. He frowns at your obvious pause, but then you just sigh in resignation and throw back the last of your coffee before standing as well, though you do look him over again as you do so. “Suit yourself, ya stubborn man.. But if ya get sloppy and start costin’ me my prey then you’ll be on yer own, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur smiles; it’s an empty threat and you both know it, but he doesn’t call you out on your bluff, even though there’s not a single person in this camp who could be fooled into thinking that you’d leave him out there on his own. He could cost you the biggest buck you’ve ever come across and you’d still stick by his side. Why exactly Arthur doesn’t know and can’t understand, but he also can’t deny the warmth that blooms in his chest whenever you prove just how loyal and devoted you can be to him. It’s nice, knowing how much he can mean to you, to _anyone_ , and it’s far more than he’s gotten from others in a good, long while.

A sharp whistle suddenly breaks him from his thoughts and Arthur blinks as he realizes that you’re no longer standing next to him but rather are now several yards away, standing beside your stallion and loosely holding onto the reigns of his mare. You’re smiling again, nothing but amusement on your face now, and Arthur tries not to grin as he hurries over to join you.

“Driftin’ away again and he ain’t even left the camp yet..” You remark playfully, turning to climb up onto your horse and nearly slipping when you suddenly feel a quick swat to your bottom. You whirl around but Arthur’s already got his back to you, speaking softly to his mare as he strokes her neck, but he also can’t hide his grin from you at this angle so you don’t bother hiding yours either. “You wanna start playin’ this game now, Morgan?”

“No idea what yer talkin’ about, darlin'.” Arthur replies, but he’s still grinning as he hauls himself up into his saddle, and he looks over to meet your gaze with a wink. “But I’m sure we can talk more about this alleged ‘game’ of yours tonight once we got some pelts to sell.”

“Oh, were gonna talk about it all right,” you grin back at him before urging your horse on and Arthur lingers behind for a moment, eyes on you and a pleasant heat burning his cheeks, and he shakes his head with a soft sigh before nudging his horse to follow after your own.

Little moments they may be, but damned if he wasn’t living for them.

 

* * *

 


	11. Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to finish another one so soon but I saw a gifset of Arthur sitting in front of a campfire and inspiration hit.

* * *

 

You didn't think it was possible to feel this relaxed, out in the middle of the woods and so far away from camp and the majority of the gang.

But then again you never thought you’d be in a gang of outlaws at all. After leaving home when you did you expected to be on your own for a good, long while, keeping yourself fed with mercenary work or whatever sort of manual labor jobs you could come across.

The last thing you expected was to find yourself becoming a member of the Van der Linde gang, but the only thing even more unexpected than your entry into the infamous family of cowboys and criminals was the bond that you slowly built up with Arthur Morgan.

It hadn’t been easy either, but something about Arthur had caught your attention from the first moment you laid eyes on him, and what really assured such an interest was the fact that he’d been the first one to speak up for you. You were no friend to the O’Driscolls, he pointed out to Dutch, along with the fact that you’d been sly enough to steal a load of their supplies right out from beneath them, and were obviously a good enough shot to get away afterwards.

You didn’t trust Arthur or his intentions back then despite what he did on your behalf, and you certainly hadn’t expected any more of them to speak up in agreement with him. Hell, you were a lone woman in the middle of the forest after all, exhausted from running and with barely enough bullets to take on half the men surrounding you if they got violent. But Arthur had convinced Dutch that you could be a potential asset if you agreed to come along, rather than a threat to them, and suddenly you were taking your first steps into joining the ragtag family that Dutch had slowly built.

Looking back, you assumed it was only natural for you to become so drawn to Arthur. You felt you owed him a debt after all, but the more time you managed to spend with the man the more you came to realize that Arthur didn’t think you owed him a damn thing. That didn't stop you, however, and you insisted on sticking close to replay what you felt you owed him.

He didn't like it at first, but Arthur turned out to be a much more patient man than you expected, and he humored your presence until that tolerance slowly shifted to the beginnings of a friendship, one that you’ve been building carefully and steadily since joining the gang.

That deepening friendship eventually led to you becoming official 'partners' in the gang, taking on hunting jobs, bounties, and various odd jobs for the others, and back then, a small part of you was content to leave your relationship with Arthur at just that. You were interested in him, obviously, but you also knew he had some romantic baggage from his past, and you couldn’t say that you were much better, and the thought of someday having something more with Arthur seemed like a far-off dream.

A dream that turned out to be much closer than you ever anticipated, because you hadn’t considered that you might not be the only one with such a dream.

That night in the forest together changed everything, when something between the two of you suddenly shifted and you'd tried to walk away from it, only for Arthur to be the one to stop you, to kiss you, and the memory of those heated moments can still bring a flush to your cheeks in spite of all the time that's passed since it happened.

How long now have you and Arthur been lovers? Weeks? Months? You’ve damn near lost track in the best way possible; every day with Arthur brought something new, blurring into a whirlwind of days filled with soft moments and shared adventures between the two of you, some good and some bad but all of them ending with you still standing beside each other.

Today had been no exception to your record so far, and a long day of hunting game and bringing in a fresh bounty had left you both too tired to head back to Shady Belle. Instead, Arthur had suggested simply camping out, leading you to where you were now; lying in front of a roaring fire with Arthur settled comfortably beneath you and your head resting against his chest. It’s a chilly night but between the fire and the warmth of the man beneath you you’ve never been more comfortable, and you can’t help but let out a heavy, contented sigh as you bask in the tender moment.

There’s a soft stirring of movement beneath you and you feel the soft brush of Arthur’s lips against the top of your head. The corners of your mouth tug up into a small smile and Arthur adjusts the arm he has wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and settling you more comfortably against his side.

“Okay there, darlin’?” he asks softly. He must've dozed off, his voice so low and rough that it sends a shiver down your spine, and you tilt your head back just enough to meet Arthur’s gaze, smile widening as you do so.

“Just thinkin’ about how I could spend the rest of my life just like this..” you reply and Arthur sighs as well, just as low and content as you had, and he moves his arm up from your waist to your shoulders, gently rubbing the side of your arm, and you settle back down to let him pull you snug against him. “Never knew somethin’ as simple as lyin’ by a fire could feel so nice..”

“Think it’s more the company than anythin’ else,” Arthur replies, and the obvious affection and happiness in his tone fills you with a scorching heat that nearly douses the warmth of the blazing fire only a few feet away. “'Cause between you an’ me, darlin’, I could stay right here too.”

“Sweet-talker,” you reply, sitting up and turning towards Arthur to press a kiss to his cheek, then his nose, and then to his lips, humming softly when he tilts his head to return the kiss. It’s slow and chaste but still so perfect in the surrounding peace and quiet, and Arthur slowly blinks his eyes open when the two of you finally pull away.

You’re stunned by the dazed expression on his face, and how at ease he truly looks in this moment and it makes you so proud, so happy to know that you can bring his walls down like this, that you managed to gain the love of a wonderful man who could barely love himself. You were getting there, slowly but surely proving to Arthur that he deserved the same warmth and happiness that he brought to your life every moment of every day. You swore to yourself that you’d get him there, and you weren’t one to break a promise, especially not to yourself.

“I love you, Arthur,” you tell him, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. He starts to speak, then catches himself before the protesting words can come out, but before you can say anything he just shakes his head with a soft chuckle, and you relax when you notice the sparkle in his eyes.

“I love you too, sweetheart..” Arthur says, and in that instant you're too overcome with your affection for this man to dwell on the fact that he was probably going to say something else. You’ll come back to it later but for now you just press another kiss to Arthur’s lips, then a second, and by the time you get to the third Arthur’s rolling the two of you over, pushing you down onto the bedroll beneath as he settles himself between your legs.

His eyes are dark and full of promise as he leans over you and you grant him permission with a nod, one that ends with getting a rough, searing kiss pressed to your lips, and you know that by the time this is over the blazing fire will be nothing but smoldering embers.

You didn’t care, not when you had something so much better to keep you warm.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking Suggestions/Single-Word prompts both here and on my tumblr, Thirivms.tumblr.com !


	12. Horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Male!Reader.   
> Slight warning for closeted sexualities.

* * *

 

“Whoa, now! Whoa- Goddamn it!”

Arthur hears the yelling seconds before he hears the familiar sound of a body hitting the ground, and when he looks over towards the source of the noise he’s only mildly surprised to see that black stallion bolting across the field, saddle still on but no rider in sight.

“That’s four fer the horse now,” Sean suddenly remarks from the nearby table, looking up from the card game that he was playing with Javier and Lenny, and he grins when he notices the raised-brow look that Arthur gives him. “We’re takin’ bets on whether or not he can break that horse. So far, the horse is winnin’. Keeps throwin’ our boy like a sack 'o flour, he does.”

“He?” Arthur repeats, but just as quickly realizes who they were talking about; You’d been the one to chase down and finally catch that black Arabian, so it only made sense that you’d be the one to try and break it.

Walking away from the table of men, Arthur spots you lying on your back a few yards away, face twisted in a grimace of pain, and he feels a flash of worry as he starts to approach but then he stops when you sit up, grunting and cursing under your breath but you don’t appear to have broken anything. Seeing that you’re not seriously injured, Arthur walks over towards you, chuckling softly in his relief as he does.

“Thought you were supposed to be breakin’ the horse, not the other way ‘round.” He remarks as he offers you his hand, and you glare up at him but accept the help anyway, and you grunt again as he pulls you up onto your feet.

“Stubborn son of a bitch,” you growl under your breath as Arthur wordlessly brushes off stray bits of dirt and grass from the back of your shirt, and he looks up to see you glaring over his shoulder. He follows your gaze, smirking when he sees the black stallion looking right back at you, ears laid back and snorting as if daring you to try again. “Yeah, keep snortin’, ya damn horse! I’ll break ya sooner or later!”

Arthur can’t help but laugh at your angry outburst, shaking his head and ignoring the scowl you give him as he claps a hand against your shoulder, and he notices your expression soften just a bit at his touch. “C’mon now, if yer gonna start threatenin' the horses then I think you and Blackie over there both need a break.”

“I ain’t namin’ him ‘Blackie’.” You reply promptly, but to Arthur’s relief you don’t protest at his suggestion to take a rest from trying to break the new horse. He says nothing, just watching silently as you sigh and then meet his gaze, your expression much calmer now than it had been moments ago. “Take a ride with me, Arthur? I need to spend some time with a horse that knows how to behave.”

“Sure,” Arthur replies with a nod, still listening to your muttered grumbling as the pair of you head off towards the hitching posts, and he unties his stallion as you do the same with your paint mare. “We headin’ anywhere in particular?”

“Nah, just need to get out of here and clear my head,” you reply, hauling yourself up into your saddle before giving your mare’s neck an affectionate pat. Arthur watches as he mounts his own horse, sees the way your eyes soften, and wonders again why you were even bothering with another horse. Not that your mare was the only one that you owned, but she sure as hell was your favorite. “Ya ready?”

“After you.” Arthur replies, and after you urge your horse forward he does the same. You lead the way, taking the familiar trail through the short patch of woods that hid the Clemens Point camp from the main road. As soon as you were clear of the trees Arthur hears you urge your mare on again, quickly moving her from a walk to a quick trot, and he nudges his horse to do the same, easily keeping up beside you.

For a good long while you just ride your horses down the trails and over the hills, heading nowhere in particular and riding alongside one another to keep up some steady conversations, and though Arthur’s normally not one to spend hours doing nothing like this he has to admit it was pretty damn relaxing to just enjoy the sight of the countryside with company he intimately enjoyed.

Soon enough, the late afternoon fades into the evening, and as it starts to get closer and closer to sundown Arthur considers suggesting that the two of you return to camp when you suddenly stop your horse, eyes on a nearby hill, and Arthur preemptively reaches for the pistol strapped to his waist. But then you just hop off of your horse, leading her off of the road and towards the hill, and Arthur climbs down to do the same, curious but quiet, and it’s not until he catches up to you that he sees what had caught your eye.

The land dipped low on the other side of the hill, giving the pair of you a breathtaking view of the fields below, long grass rippling in the soft breeze that was blowing, and Arthur's eyes wander across the field and towards the forest, listening to the soft rustle of leaves that could be heard even at this distance.

He hears you sigh, soft but peaceful, and Arthur watches you for a few long moments, taking in the way the light shines in your eyes and how the breeze ruffles your hair before he finally turns his gaze back to the landscape. It’s quiet, aside from the wind and the occasional noise from a nearby animal and Arthur feels warmth pooling in his chest when you suddenly reach over, brushing your knuckles almost hesitantly against his. He doesn’t pull away, and you take that simple response as enough encouragement to entwine your fingers with his.

“Y’know, sometimes I forget how beautiful it can be out here when there’s nothing shootin’ at us,” you remark, a soft smile on your face when Arthur looks over at you, and he’s quick to return it with one of his own. “Thanks for ridin’ out with me, Arthur. Think I really needed this..”

“Well, you only ever have to ask when you need somethin’ from me,” Arthur replies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, "Besides, I think I needed this to."

The ' _I needed you_ ' goes unspoken, but it's still felt between you both.

You look away from him only long enough to make sure there was no one coming up the road behind you.

Arthur does the same out of lingering habit but the surrounding area seems empty, aside from a few deer grazing on another nearby hill. Satisfied that you’re alone, you look back at him and smile before stepping forward to close the distance between you and pressing a slow kiss to his lips.

Arthur’s quick to return it, giving your hand another light squeeze as his free one reaches out to grasp at your waist, pulling you closer to him and you sigh against his lips, drawing back briefly to take a breath before you kiss him again, faster and deeper this time, and Arthur moves his hand up from your waist to your face, feeling the rough stubble of your cheeks against his palm. You hadn’t shaved for a few days and in the back of Arthur’s mind he hopes you’re growing it out again. The last time you had you’d looked so damn good, but that was before.. this had started.

He doesn’t want his thoughts to spoil the moment but the regrets still come as he thinks of the time that he’d wasted, all those months of knowing each other where he’d been too scared to accept what he was slowly coming to feel for you. He'd been too scared to even tell you about it because he's misread people and their tolerances before, and risking the friendship he'd built with you back then just didn't seem worth the risk.

Arthur wonders, briefly, if he ever would have done so if you hadn’t been the one to let your feelings slip first. Probably not, if he was being honest with himself..

Either way, he brushes the thoughts from his mind as you both pull back again and Arthur stares at you, listening to your hard breaths and taking in the pleasant flush of your face, and just as he starts to lean in for another kiss a distant voice suddenly cuts through the air.

You and Arthur both leap back from each other, his heart suddenly pounding, but when Arthur looks over he sees a lone man riding along the trail, facing the other way, and he'd apparently been yelling at a hunting dog that had started to wander too far away from him. After a minute he passes by and beyond sight, not sparing either of you more than a quick glance as he goes.

Arthur hears you sigh once the man is out of sight, either out of frustration or relief he can't tell, but you’re smiling by the time he looks back at you.

“Guess we oughta head back,” you say, but the smile on your lips doesn’t show in your eyes as you turn away to retrieve your mare from where she was grazing, and Arthur frowns to himself as he fetches his horse too.

He hates when things end like this, cut short by sudden and unwanted arrivals, but he knows it has to be this way, at least whenever the two of you were somewhere you could be spotted by strangers. The camp wasn’t much better though; he could count the number of folks who knew about you and him on a hand missing some fingers, but maybe someday he could at least be a little more open with his affections for you in front of others. Or at least not have to worry about being attacked over something as simple as trying to hold your damn hand..

“Stop it.” He looks up at the sound of your voice, and Arthur frowns when he sees the look that you’re giving him. “Y'know we have to take what we can whenever we can, Arthur. Ain’t no use dwellin’ on anythin’ else.”

A part of Arthur wants to argue, wants to point out that you were just as angry and discontent as he was in spite of your words but the mood was already spoiled enough already, and Arthur just huffs before he climbs back onto his horse and follows you back to the main road.

The mood lightens up soon enough, however, and you’re in the middle of a conversation about a potential bounty hunt when Arthur suddenly turns his horse, heading down the right side of a fork in the trail instead of the left, which would lead the pair of you back to camp. You stop your mare completely, looking at his retreating form with a confused frown.

“What’re you doin’?” you ask even as you urge your horse to follow after his; the sun would be down soon and you hadn’t brought enough supplies to camp out, but Arthur just shrugs as he looks back at you, and you don’t miss the hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Too late to make it back to camp before dark,” he says, something sly in his voice as he faces ahead of him again, and your frown deepens. You had plenty of time to get back before the sun went down completely. “Figured we might as well head into town, try and get some rooms at the saloon.”

At the..? _Oh_.

You grin, nudging your horse to go a little faster so that you could catch up to Arthur's, and when you look at him you can see the first hints of a blush on his face beneath the thick stubble. “Think you’re slick, don’t ya Arthur?”

“Only thing that I think is that I need a night with you,” Arthur replies, voice dropping low enough to bring another flush to your cheeks. “If ya don’t want to tonight then we can just use the separate rooms, but-”

“Like Hell we are.” You cut him off, grinning as Arthur throws his head back in laughter, and as much as you want to lean over and kiss him again you don’t, you can’t risk it this close to town now, but after a few drinks you’ll have much more than kisses to look forward to.

You follow him into the town and down the main road that would take you to the saloon, silent but eager, and as you reflect on the turn that this evening had taken you make a mental note to somehow thank that damn horse for sending you out here in the first place.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking Suggestions/Single-Word prompts both here and on my tumblr, Thirivms.tumblr.com !


End file.
